The Heart Collector
by AJ Maxima
Summary: As part of his curse from the Witch of the Waste, Howl truly does go around eating beautiful girl's hearts and collecting some in his castle. But a magical lock on Sophie's heart prevents her from harm time and again. He'd give anything to break that seal, if he could only find the key. "Finders keepers," Calcifer warned. "Losers weepers." {What-if fic}{Elements of film and novel.}
1. In Which Howl and Sophie Dance on Clouds

**The Heart Collector**

As part of his curse from the Witch of the Waste, Howl truly does go around eating beautiful girl's hearts and collecting them in his castle. But a magical lock on Sophie's heart prevents her from harm time and again. He'd give anything to break that seal, if he could only find the key. "Finders keepers," Calcifer warned. "Losers weepers." {What-if fic}{Elements of film and novel.}

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing! ;)

* * *

 **Chapter 1: In Which Howl and Sophie Dance on the Clouds**

Far too crowded for a game of Cat and Mouse today, but the buoyant celebrations in the town of Market Chipping hadn't deterred Howl from roaming the chaotic streets.

With each brisk step, Howl knew the Witch of the Waste and her assailants were slithering behind, but from the amiable smile he wore to match the pleasantry exuding from his glass-marble blue eyes, one would suggest that he hadn't truly minded. In a way, he was honored the witch would take such measures in pursuing him, especially after the last occasion they'd properly spoken… It made his vanity level rise at an alarming rate, even if his paranoia rose with it.

 _Running is such a bother_ , Howl thought as he paced. But he couldn't deny that he was an expert in the cowardly area.

His long, chin-length blond hair swayed with each step, and his emerald teardrop earrings moved in unpredictable directions whenever he'd maneuver around some townsfolk. Some men who spared him a glance took note of his envious, flamboyant wardrobe—a white tunic, dark slacks, matching black shoes, and a pink tailored coat hanging from his shoulders designed with large, grey diamond patterns on every inch of the beautiful fabric except for the yellow trimmed sleeves. The sleeves had a gold lining to resemble the collar, along with the rest of the trim on the embroidered craftsmanship.

Some _women_ , however, took no interest in his attire. Their only focus was his youthful, attractive physical features—qualities attained by spending _hours_ in his bathroom.

In truth, Howl was quite average, with mud colored hair that was nothing to fawn over, but he'd never allow such a secret to be revealed. Narcissism at it's finest…

"Oh!" a middle-aged brunette woman said in surprise. She felt a gentle hand touch the pink fabric on the small of her back, and her brown eyes looked up to meet irises belonging to Howl as he kindly ushered her out of his way to avoid bumping into her through the crowded area.

He flashed her a brilliant smile as he passed, even going so far as taking her right hand in his left, and relishing the mesmerized way she ogled. "Excuse me," was all he said before he left her presence—but not before allowing the tips of his fingers to linger against hers.

"My goodness," the woman whispered.

"Oh mother," the woman's daughter practically whined nearby. "Do stop drooling…" It was embarrassing for a woman her age, but the girl had also nearly swooned at the sight of Howl's smile, feeling a flush on her cheeks.

 _What a handsome young man_ , the woman thought. She quickly turned to her daughter. "What are you waiting for, dear?! Go after him!" She had no shame in allowing her daughter to pursue such a fine specimen—who probably had wealth beyond her lower-middle class status. There was no greater joy to her than having her daughter marry someone of a higher rank.

Had she known who Howl was, and how insensible he was with money, she wouldn't have rushed her daughter into the clutches of the unidentified heart collector…

Although Howl had gone, he'd left the impression he'd intended with the woman, her daughter, and the Witch of the Waste—but the last of the three had been more out of mockery above all else. "It won't be long now," he whispered. He was glad to round the corner to find the stone streets empty, even more complacent when he heard the small patter of the woman's daughter behind him.

 _I don't even have to chase today. They just come to me…_ He knew this situation had derived from the results of his curse, which was becoming stronger as the weeks progressed. It was quite incredible to know that one spell could be so prevailing, so horrifyingly deceptive to witness from his perspective as the receivers he lured all suffered the same fate: death.

And the creature he turned into… the very thought of it frightened him, causing him to close his eyes in a solemn moment of reflection.

"H-hello there," was the shy call.

Howl paused, feigning innocence as he turned his head. He hadn't bothered to gaze at her directly. "Yes?" He didn't wish to do this, and yet somehow a voice in his mind urged him that this was the right thing to do—that this act of mercilessness had been ethical.

Howl was cursed, yes, and very much possessed because of it.

The girl felt a little weak at the knees upon hearing the alluring, soothing sound of his deceiving voice. She noted it was laced with somewhat of a rasp to it. Delightful to the ears…

When Howl heard no reply, he turned fully to examine the girl who'd trailed him. Green eyes and golden curls with coral lipstick and a white dress... _She's wearing_ that _dress_? Howl mused incredulously, tilting his head. It was ghastly, a contrast to her beauty. _After all the effort she went through to make the rest of herself seem so pretty…_ He certainly felt like giving her some pointers. Perhaps spending a few more hours on her wardrobe than just her make-up in the bathroom…

 _Her mother cleans up better,_ he concluded as an afterthought. And the woman hadn't been too appalling to gaze upon, either—save for the few wrinkles around her mouth, which he suspected had been produced from years of catty chatter and gossip among her friends.

Perhaps Howl was trying to steal the wrong heart today…?

 _No_ , Howl decided. _She'll do._

She was youthful, after all, but he still felt uncertain… And yet, the more the girl paced towards him, the more he knew he was unable to deny such a pretty face with a heart so willing. The curse wouldn't allow him to do so, even as he tried to turn tail and run, he knew from the moment she touched his right arm that he couldn't—not just yet—not until he'd ripped her heart out and either ate it, or stored it in his castle and left the scene of the crime... and the body along with it...

He had _quite_ the collection…

"Who are you?" the girl asked curiously.

 _Their questions are always the same…_ The lines delivered from the reckless ones such as these… The girls in Porthaven were quicker to bait, though—much to his dismay whenever he was aware of morality. They didn't ask him _anything_ ; he simply led and they freely followed… He suspected that it was possibly because of their lower-class ranking and eagerness to rise up.

 _The heart never lies…_

He was correct. Their innermost fantasies revealed all that he needed to know, and Howl could read them well… Most yearned for romance, and he'd give them their last request in their final hours… He had to blink a few times to snap out of his reverie, forcing himself not to dwell on the cruel sufferings he'd inflicted.

Although Howl felt sorry for what he was about to ask, he couldn't bring it in himself to stop. "Will you meet me tonight?" He hadn't bothered to give her any information pertaining to him, and suddenly, after seeing the eager—mind you, foolish—way the girl nodded in agreement, he didn't feel the need to spare her even the simplest of sympathies for taking her heart once the sun had set.

With a gentle brush of his back fingers against her cheek, he smiled. "Tonight then," he whispered.

"I-in this very spot?" The naivety in her tone was false, like the zeal exposed on her smile.

The wizard inclined his head once more. "What's wrong with this spot?" he asked, taking her hand. He'd spoken this with a bit of a tease in his voice. "It's the perfect place to be alone." As he kissed her hand, the ends of his lips curled upward, knowing the Witch of the Waste's henchmen were stalking them nearby. "I'll steal you away and take you dancing on the clouds."

He'd spoken this out of spite to his observing foe in the shadows.

"Dancing on the…?" the girl asked in awe. _Steal…? Why does my heart feel so… so visible?_ Her eyes widened and she took an abrasive step away from him. "Are you… are you the Wizard Howl, the heart eater?"

 _I prefer the title of 'heart collector' at this point_ , he retorted. It sounded more refined than gruesome, like 'heart eater' had. Besides, he had dozens in his collection. "…Are you afraid of me?" He refused to answer any question she inquired of him, knowing it was best to entice her without titles to prevent any needless afterthoughts of regret.

 _Yes, but I can't leave.._. She was under the merciless trappings of the curse. After a moment, she took a freeing step towards him, feeling her fear leave her for some unknown reason. "No," she whispered. It was a lie.

 _She's not even trying to fight it…_ Howl produced a red rose out of thin air, placing it in her hand. "For you." As he'd spoken this, Sophie Hatter had just rounded the corner.

She was wearing a simple hat with a red ribbon attached, a grey dress, dark stockings, and brown boots to compliment her dull attire. Her brown eyes were wide with surprise at the intimate sight she'd intruded upon, and her long, braided, reddish-gold hair swayed as she took a few retreating steps. Her fingers gripped the small red box of crème cakes she carried from the bakery with anxiety. "Oh! I'm—I'm sorry…"

Howl almost laughed upon seeing the way her cheeks had flushed a lovely scarlet. _She looks frightened. Does she know who I am…?_ No one had ever seen his face and lived when he was prowling. The thought of adding her to his game caused his smile to widen, and the unnamed girl cast Sophie a peeved look.

 _His eyes remind me of glass marbles_ , Sophie mused. _How odd…_

When Sophie saw the stare the girl was giving her, she had truly wanted to give her the same expression in return—or perhaps an earful of how desperate the girl looked for fawning over such a suspicious—quite colorful—man alone… but as she deliberated it, she was reminded of her sister, Lettie, who'd warned her of the faceless heart collector…

* * *

 _"Sophie, you've got to be more careful wandering around by yourself," Lettie explained. Her sister was a blue-eyed beauty, with the face of Sophie's stepmother, and golden hair to match. The concern in her eyes as she quickly patted off some crumbs on her apron and red pastry dress were enough to make Sophie feel guilty about visiting her on such a busy day. She barely had time to say her sister's name before Lettie wiped at the remaining pastry crumbs from her hands and seized Sophie's wrist, leading her to the back of the shop so they could talk in private._

 _Once they'd made it to the small storage room, she asked, "Were you bothered along the way?" Her eyebrows were lifting inquisitively as she sank down on some low-stacked boxes and gently pulled Sophie's hands in a silent message for her to do the same._

 _"No," Sophie replied._

 _Lettie squeezed her sister's hand. "You know the witches and wizards—"_

 _"I'm all right, Lettie," Sophie assured her, sounding a little frustrated. When Lettie frowned, she said, "Really. You needn't worry yourself so much." The assurance in her fib matched her confidence—nonexistent._

 _"But I worry all the time," Lettie stated. She sighed, never releasing Sophie's hands and she absently entwined their fingers. "You're always in the hat shop."_

 _"It was father's," Sophie reminded. It was a dull life to live behind those walls, as dull as Sophie often felt… It wasn't easy being the first born… She could certainly vouch for that._

 _Lettie acknowledged this with a sullen nod. "Mother would understand if you left. I know you must get bored there, Sophie."_

Not this again _, Sophie mused, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. Lettie had been trying to persuade her to find a life of her own since the three of them had been placed in their respective workshops after their father's passing, but Sophie refused._

 _Sophie Hatter didn't understand her worth, nor had she comprehended that living a life everyone else wanted was no life at all, and it was far worse than not taking a leap of faith in pursuing one of her own free will…_

 _"Lettie," Sophie spoke up. "I'm fine… I really am." Perhaps if she'd spoken this enough times, she would be._

 _Lettie didn't believe her; no sensible sister would. "Sophie—"_

 _"Lettie!" someone called. "The buns are ready!"_

 _"Just a moment, Carrie!" she called back._

 _Sophie felt as if she'd overstayed her short welcome. "I shouldn't have come on such a hectic day." It was May Day for heaven's sake and she felt emotionally drained from all the bustle._

 _"No," Lettie disagreed. "I'm glad you did." She embraced her sister with loving arms, having wanted to do so for a while. "I've missed you. You really should get out more." Sophie agreed with a small hum, returning the sentimental gesture._

 _As Lettie pulled away at arms length, she eyed Sophie with a peculiar fear overpowering her mixed expressions. "…Did you hear that the wizard Howl ate another girl's heart yesterday?" The news made Sophie's own heart sank due to her alarm. "They found her body on the pier," Lettie explained. She paled at the thought and brought her left hand up to her chest, imagining such a cruel act being delivered upon herself. "It was awful, Sophie. Her heart had been ripped right from her chest…!"_

 _Sophie's brows knitted into an expression of disgust. "How does everyone know that it was actually_ eaten _?"_

 _"It's just a rumor," Lettie said, pulling a folded 'Wanted' poster out of her pocket. "But he didn't leave hers so he_ must've _eaten it." As she handed the crumbled paper to Sophie, she said, "Rumor has it he's done this before—and sometimes, he'll even keep it as prize."_

 _Sophie wasn't afraid of a rumor but there was no picture on the paper in her hands. All it said was:_ Wanted, Dead or Alive. The Heart Collector, Wizard Howl. 1,000,000 Reward.

 _The word 'Alive' had been crossed out to ensure that whoever made the design wanted to see Howl's body delivered to them without a pulse. "I don't understand how a person could—"_

 _"Not a_ person _," Lettie tried to reason. "A_ wizard _—a monster if there ever was one—and no one knows what he looks like except his victims." Lettie fixed a stray bang on Sophie's forehead, being mindful not ask her to wear her hair down like she had last time they'd spoken. Sophie's temper was nothing to battle against._

 _"The worse part about all of this is that Howl's castle_ always _drifts by in the waste," Lettie finished._

 _"But no one_ ever _travels to the waste," Sophie finished, knowing that Howl would remain free. "That's terrible..."_

 _Not as terrible as_ living _with the idea of taking so many lives…_

* * *

Howl snapped Sophie out of her memories with a slight chuckle. He was three feet in front on her now, leaning forward with his knuckles on his hips while his next victim stood a little ways off. "Did we startle you?"

Alarmed, Sophie murmured a quick, "I'll…" She clasped her hands together around her box of crème cakes while Howl waited for her to speak. He'd thought her expression was due to his looks upon first glance, but when he sensed her shifty uneasiness, he almost frowned.

 _She knows… or at least suspects_ , he mused. This wouldn't do, not if he wanted to keep a decent amount of privacy. He'd mistaken the anxiousness on her expression—which had been produced from venturing outside for the first time in while on such a bustling day—with nervousness upon possibly suspecting him. His paranoia of being discovered was in overdrive, and because of this, he knew he'd have to get rid of any unwanted suspicion.

Sophie Hatter had just made herself a personalized target of the heart collector.

"I'll just be on my way," Sophie told him, and hurried off.

 _Oh no you won't._ The curse weighed in on him with urgency, beckoning him to go after both Sophie and the girl still nearest to him.

Before the girl he'd been previously luring could get another opportunity to speak, Howl smiled and placed a chaste kiss against her hand, knowing that he'd feast on two hearts before the day started anew.

"W-where are you going?" the girl asked.

"Tonight," Howl said as he walked off. He turned his head as he walked, placing a single finger against his lips. "Meet me, but it's our little secret—just between us, all right?" He knew the curse would prevent her from saying 'no'.

"Yes," she agreed, worried that she so easily fell for the man. Her eyes were now glass, matching his own. "Yes, of course…"

 _As if you'd decline_ , he thought dolefully. "That's my girl," he forced out instead, before traveling onto the same street that Sophie had.

It wasn't until moments later, when a flash of black caught his eye, that he found a reason to actually smile. "Uh-oh, am _I_ the mouse now?" There was a bit of lightheartedness in his tone. As the remnants of what looked to be the witch's henchmen seeped from the cracks of the streets and slithered towards him, he propped his knuckles on his hips. "I guess I've got no choice but to play along now." He liked running; evading them would be a breeze.

However, he wished that he had seen Sophie Hatter before he took off down the street and rounded the other corner, effectively colliding into her small frame from behind and tumbling over her in the process.

The _only_ thing that saved Sophie's face from slamming into the stone was her quickness to extend her arms to shield her from head damage—but she'd skidded her forearms and elbows against the stone in the process. The crème cakes she'd received from Lettie were a splattered messed inside the open box nearby…

Howl, who had caught himself at last second during the fall, was currently above her, and pushed up with his palms near either side of her shoulders as to not squish her petite frame. With a tired rolling maneuver, he moved to lie beside her, on his back to catch his breath and get over his shock.

"I scraped my jacket," he said, sounding partially offended and accusatory.

Sophie gave him an incredulous look at his declaration.

Strike one.

Even the _moral_ side of Howl appeared to be utterly disappointed to the point of being melodramatic of what had occurred—much ado about nothing, really. The material had barely brushed against the earth since his coat had fallen off and landed nearby. The damage wasn't noticeable—save for a small amount of dust—but he was unaware of this from not having properly inspected it. It had touched the ground in which people walked.

It was tainted in his eyes, ruined by bumping into Sophie.

Sophie, however, was pretty sure that whatever rips she found, she could salvage by stitching it up with a simple thimble, needle and thread.

"And my shoes are scuffed," Howl droned on as an afterthought, not bothering to look at his feet as he placed his forearm over his eyes.

Sophie's temper was rising at the childish display.

Strike two.

She sat up with an appalled expression dominating her disheveled features. _That's what you say after knocking me over?_ She was mere moments away from giving him and earful but she winced, peering down at her arms.

When Howl lowered his arm from his eyes and noticed the fresh blood staining the forearm areas of Sophie's dress, he sat up, arching his brow as he gently took her by her right elbow and looked on with a perplexed gaze. At first she thought she was examining her wounds by the attentive way his temperate had shifted—and the way his fingers hovered over the rips and scuff marks—but when he scrunched his face and commented, "The red is the only thing worth saving on this dull dress," she decided that he cared nothing for her scratches.

Howl couldn't tell whether his blunt comment had been because he was possessed or because of his own vanity. He decided that perhaps it was both.

Meanwhile, Sophie was livid.

If she'd only taken the time to inspect the once aching areas under her damaged garments, she'd have known that Howl _had_ given her enough thought to heal them. However, she didn't, and because of this, Sophie lost her temper.

Strike three.

Snatching her arm away, she gave him a contrite look, noticing her hat and shawl were flying further off down the street from the light breeze that drifted around them. "You knock me over, _harm_ me, and instead of apologizing, you—you have the _nerve_ to insult my dress?!"

Howl did _not_ like confrontation—nor did he like to get angered in return—and he was little more than baffled to detect such hostility radiating from what he _thought_ to be a quite girl. _She's quite pretty when she's yelling…_ He inclined his head to the right, eyebrows rising at revelation of this new, highly unwelcome, development. "You're upset." He'd spoken it so casually, as if he were chatting in an idle manner about a rumor he'd heard. The irony that _he_ was the biggest rumor in Ingary…

Sophie didn't know if she'd be able to stop herself once she smacked him, so she decided against it. As she pointed her finger at him, she shouted, "You—!"

Howl was quick to place his right hand over her lips.

"You're really a terror when you're mad, aren't you?" he asked, ignoring the way she began struggling. His eyes zeroed in on the henchmen creeping onto the street. " _I'm_ being followed by the Witch of the Waste and all you care about is yourself?" When Sophie's eyes enlarged from the shocker, he nodded. "See now? My problem seems bigger than your dress, doesn't it?" He had a point, in a narcissistic way—but there was truth behind it. He liked teasing her, just to see that look on her face.

She grabbed his wrist, pulling his hand from her lips. "You're quite vain."

"Name me a human that isn't vain at least once in their life," he demanded back. When Sophie couldn't come up with an answer, he nodded. "I believe I'm just more frank about it."

"So you're running away?" she asked him.

"Wouldn't you?"

"Not in an isolated area," Sophie countered. "Possibly with more people around to make a better escape since she probably wouldn't reveal herself to the public."

Howl rolled his eyes, giving her an unfortunate look. "You clearly don't know what this woman is like…"

"But you do," Sophie reminded. "Or else you wouldn't be running."

"I'm not running," Howl said, sounding a bit dignified as he turned his nose up. He caught sight of something dark in the left corner of his eye… "I'm just truly committed to rushing around with no commitment—and great caution…" That summed Howl up perfectly.

Before he could hear her rebuttal, he scooped her up by her hands and leapt into the air, seconds before the henchmen closed in on them.

Sophie closed her eyes and held her breath as she prepared for the worst, falling, but once she felt a secure hand around her waist, along with Howl holding her left palm, she peeked her eyes open.

The superlative view took her breath away.

Howl was walking in midair, mindful that her legs were still scrunched together—close to his—while he drifted with her, and he even gave her a reassuring grin with she peered up at him.

"Just relax," he instructed. "Spread your legs and walk." For emphasis, he made a light pace, watching in amusement as she did the same. "…You're perfect." _A natural..._ He sounded genuinely impressed that she so easily fell into step with him.

With a bit more confidence than her previous feelings of anger or fear, Sophie smiled up at him, noting the arm he'd looped around her waist traveled up to lace his right hand in hers.

The sensation of being in the air as the people celebrated down below was exhilarating. It was something she'd only dreamed about once as a little girl, something impossible…

Magical.

Howl wouldn't voice it, but he was enjoying himself, too. He did this often, and most of the girls would be afraid to join in, even when he tried to dance with them and held them close, but Sophie was a free spirit if given the opportunity… when her guard was down…

But the guard on her heart was still fortified.

"Where were you headed?" he asked. Part of him wanted to make sure she got to her next destination safely, while the crazed half made him feel impatient to bait her away and feast on her heart.

"Home," Sophie answered, unsure of why she was telling him. It was as if an unknown presence were making her speak truthfully now, demanding that she give herself to him…

Suddenly, she felt afraid, even as Howl smiled down at her and said, "Lead the way." He twirled her twice before leaping further up into the sky, seeing the flash of distress in her eyes as she realized he must've been the wizard from the wanted posters, the heart collector.

 _But he only goes after pretty girls_ , she thought. _Maybe he was bored and wanted someone… different._ She couldn't bring it in herself to say unattractive or hideous…

The expression of horror Sophie wore only egged Howl on to dance with her while she tried her best to assess what was proceeding. She didn't want her heart to be ripped out and eaten, for Lettie and Martha to hear about her body that had been left to rot...

A chill gave her goose bumps as Howl dipped his head down to whisper in her ear. "You're not leading. Do I have to guess where you live?" The tease in his tone didn't quite seem match the wicked smile was giving her _._ Perhaps it was due to the sympathy flashing in his eyes. Howl was certain now that she'd discovered who he was…

He'd have to kill her, and she wasn't even supposed to die today...

Pity.

Sophie swallowed the saliva that had collected into her mouth, feeling some resolve as she placed her hand on his left shoulder and squeezed his right palm in her own, making sure to keep up with his fluid dance movements while she debated on what she should do next.

"You can't have it," she told him bravely. Shaking her head, she said, "My heart belongs to me."

 _Hang onto that courage_ , he thought, unable to warn her. _Hold it fast..._

Despite this, Howl laughed cruelly, and Sophie heard somewhat of a rancorous deep voice laced over his own. He sounded frightening and hollow... _heartless_. "I'll feast on it if I please," he assured her, and Sophie watched as dark blue feathers protruded out of his face in the shape of a circle, leaving only the area around his eyes, nose, and lips unchanged. The rest of the feathers emerged from his clothes and the remaining skin on his body, engulfing him until all that was left to be seen were black talons inching their way out of his large claws, which used to be his hands and feet. Eventually, the feathers on his arm grew into large wings...

Sensing the challenge, Sophie narrowed her eyes—despite her terror. "You can try." Her voice was quiet, yet unwavering. _What if I die here..._

A feathered claw lifted in Sophie's direction, rising with an intent to slash… an intent to kill. The talon were fidgeting, itching to rip heart out...

But Howl was brought back to his senses when he saw Sophie's face begin to morph into several layers of dry... of dry...

 _Wrinkles?!_

With a shriek of spooked surprise, Howl accidentally released Sophie, watching her fall below as she let out a throaty, ghastly scream.

She'd changed into a woman who looked no younger than _ninety_ , and although Howl hadn't quite gotten a good glimpse of all of her physical features, he'd seen enough to know that she was far too aged to be pursuing. Even a heartless man such as him had limitations...

He paused in midair for a good ten seconds, taking in the sorcery he'd just witnessed. _She gave me quite a fright..._

Once he got over his shock, he flew down after her. He was so high up that she was unable to be seen through the array of clouds he flew through, but once he was farther down, he could see her small frame falling. Her desperate scream sounded much higher now, and from what he could tell, her hair was no longer gray like it had been in those briefest of moments. Sophie had returned to her youthful state.

As she tumbled towards the brown and red covered buildings of Market Chipping, Howl debated on whether or not he'd be able to reach her. _It'll be a stretch..._ A growl erupted from his throat and he rushed further down, picking up speed and feeling the breeze lash out at his face the longer he descended his fall from grace.

It'd be a pity if she went splat before he could feast on her heart...

 _The only way you'll die is by my hands._ He stretched his right claw forward, trying his best to grab her before she could crash to her demise, and during the first reach, he missed.

Because of this slip-up, Sophie's body nearly hit a red tiled roof.

He even managed to scrape his own left wing against the edge of said covering due to his larger size, throwing him slightly off with a grunt of pain... but during his second attempt, he caught her by the waist and landed onto the street, thankful that it was deserted.

Had he caught her a second later at that unforgivable angle, her head would've rammed into the pavement, along with her feet, and the friction probably would've caused her head to actually snap (although he was sure she was suffering from a dose of whiplash). There were barely a few centimeters between that _almost_ mishap, and in order to feast on her heart, she needed to be alive... not exactly healthy, but alive...

And more importantly, _young_... as youthful as she looked resting in his feathered arms now…

Howl watched as Sophie's right hand inched its way to her neck while she kept her eyes closed and groaned. He actually took a moment to inspect her delicate features during her ailing moment... It was a shame something so beautiful always had to die by his hands... a never-ending cycle…

When Sophie opened her eyes, and her blurry vision came into focus with Howl's monstrous face, she gasped. Howl didn't seem to mind that she quickly pushed herself away and frantically scooted onto the other side of the street, near the base of a brown building. "L-leave me alone!" she screamed. _Maybe if I shout enough someone will hear me...!_

But there was no one who'd hear her call above the celebrations. The fireworks had started and the sun was soon to set.

And Howl felt more than a little baffled at the young woman on the opposite side of the street.

He couldn't quite read Sophie's expression anymore, and to say he was perplexed was an understatement. He saw that her right brow was quirked up, but the other was curled downward and squished in a way that gave her a few wrinkles on her forehead. Her head was inclined to the left while the rest of her upper torso was leaning against the brown brick. Her legs were curled underneath her and her dress was critically wrinkled…

Sophie's hair was a disheveled mess, and her bangs were giving off a chaotic aura as they stuck out in odd directions. Her right hand was placed on her heart—as if she were protecting the area—and her eyes remained on the glass-marble ones observing her.

Howl still hadn't changed back into a human from his creaturely state, much too absorbed in the girl before him. "You… you were so _old_ ," he stated incredulously. "As if…" He inched forward to attack her with his left set of talons as a sort of test, only to pause when he saw her body morph into that of an elderly, haggardly woman once more. He didn't take in her features, opting to look away with a cringe.

Once again, Sophie didn't look a day under ninety years of age.

When he lowered his claw back to his side, and tried to remove all thoughts of harming her, he glanced back over to see that she had reverted back into her youthful appearance. _She… she must be a witch!_ "You cursed yourself to protect yourself... from my curse?!"

Sophie didn't understand. As far as she was concerned, she was perfectly normal, perfectly _dull_ and certainly not gorgeous enough for the Howl the Heart Collector to even be sparing her a glance. She hugged herself as she eyed him, still catching her breath. "W-What are you on about?!"

The game of Cat and Mouse...

Its rules had definitely changed.

…

 **A/N:** This is my first fanfic in this archive! Yass! *coughs* So, I wanted majority of this fic to be told from close third in Howl's perspective, simply because the untrue gossip in the novel and film about him being wicked are true in this fic. Having read and watched both, I'm a fan of both so there will be reminiscent areas that will hopefully remind people of both.

As far as characterization, I'm not sure how well I'm doing so far. I tried combining the personalities and dialogue of the novel and film but I'm finding it to be a heck of struggle. I'm not sure if the scenarios sound legit. Feedback is welcome—and extremely important—in all areas and thanks for reading this!

-AJ


	2. In Which Howl Eats A Heart

Feedback is encouraged, and I'm sorry if this chapter is long! I _live_ for long chapters. Thanks for taking the time to read this to anyone who is and special thanks to: **Fumiko15** , **Dandelion Floof** , and **James Birdsong** for the reviews! :)

 **Replies to guest reviews at bottom!**

* * *

 **Chapter 2: In Which Howl Eats a Heart**

Curious chocolate eyes observed the feathers on Howl's skin as they gradually forced themselves back into his flushed flesh through the minor punctures they'd already produced. Those same eyes rounded when Howl's face became taut and he threw his head back, projecting a perturbed snarl from his throat. The way his eyes clamped shut—and the downward curling of his quivering lips as he squirmed in an effort to alleviate his excruciating discomfort—warned Sophie that the pain he was experiencing must've been intense.

Howl was shuddering, and she felt as uncomfortable as he looked.

Instead of running away, which she very well _ought_ to have done, Sophie couldn't help but sympathize with the wizard as she watched him. Howl's wardrobe had slowly begun to emerge into existence the more the feathers were pulled into his flesh, and once the dark blue had completely diminished, his clothes were fully formed—save for his jacket, which he'd left on the street to be forgotten before he took Sophie dancing on the clouds earlier.

With a groan, he rested on his knees and hunched forward, pressing his palms against the earth. It was his turn to catch his breath, and when his eyes met Sophie's, he quirked a brow. "You're still here…" he commented. He sounded a little raspier than his normal pitch—as if he needed some water after a long run to replenish and quench his thirst.

Sophie could only stare in reply, blinking to fix the dryness in her eyes. _I just have to remember that he can't kill me…_

"You _are_ aware that I just attempted to murder you?" Howl was speaking in a cautious tone, and a bit incredulously. "Aren't you?" _Has she gone mad?_

Sophie acknowledged this with a quick bow of her head. "Quite."

"...Then why are you still here?"

"You…" Sophie took a moment to respond, pressing her lips in a tight line. "You're unable to kill me."

 _But I'm not unable to truly_ harm _you_. Howl took in her words with a contemplative hum as he touched his chin with his index finger in a fluid motion—despite his fatigue. "Not at the moment. No. But that doesn't mean I won't try later." _I'll keep pursuing you… whoever you are._

Sophie looked a little timid upon hearing that, but she refused to allow fear to dominate her expression. Instead she narrowed her eyes at him, pursing her lips. "Even if I run away, you'd find me, wouldn't you? Because of your curse…?" She didn't know all of its effects, but she had a good assumption about the gist of it.

He simply blinked, refusing to answer her.

"…Why _my_ heart?"

 _If you hadn't looked at me in such a way_ , he thought. "Not in _that_ way…"

"In what way?" she asked, sounding intrigued.

Howl's expression was gentler now, almost calm in a way. There was no roughness flickering within his eyes, and his brows were relaxed and neutral. He simply lifted both shoulders before sinking them. "As if you knew—or at least suspected…" When he saw the surprise fluttering in her eyes, he sighed. "I can't have any witnesses."

"I won't tell anyone," Sophie said automatically. Her voice sounded final, however, Howl felt hesitant to trust her—and she certainly shouldn't have expected otherwise. The only person he trusted was Markl, and even then he kept the youth just at arms length.

"...Where do you live?" he asked. "The Witch of the Waste was roaming around and she's already seen you." Sophie had thought he actually cared for her well-being until he added, "And I'd hate to have her kill you before I can."

At least he was honest….

Contrary to her frown, Sophie felt as if she had the upper hand against the heart collector, giving him a shake of her head. "You said so earlier that I cursed myself to protect myself against harm from you…"

"Yes."

"But I haven't changed since we've been speaking," she clarified. "Which means that perhaps you haven't been thinking about it…?"

Howl's lips parted at the news of the revelation, but once he became aware of what he'd tried to do earlier—aware of her heart—he saw Sophie's skin begin to change again into the dry wrinkles he'd seen before—and a larger nose to match. Her figure had increased by a vast amount to the point of it being squeezed into the dress she wore, and as her body expanded under the fabric, he could easily hear the material stretch. Sophie's hair began to fade into a dull shade of grey. It also became shortened by quite a few inches, but it remained in the braid she wore with the pink ribbon at the bottom…

A quivering finger—a benign symptom that was presumably the cause of one suffering from old age—pointed at him in agitation. "Will you stop that?!" a ghastly voice asked. Sophie's once soft tone sounded uncanny to Howl now, nothing appealing at all.

Despite this, he half-smiled once he became mindful that he'd gotten a rise out of her, and he began relishing in how nice it felt to tease her... until he heard her harsh cough. _It's no wonder she didn't have a heart attack during the fall._ He got to his feet quickly, pacing over to her in quick strides before he knelt and offered her his hands.

Large, elderly eyes gave him an objective look. "Don't let this old body fool you. I'm perfectly capable of getting up myself. "

 _The defiance in her tone actually sounds adorable,_ the wizard mused.

Howl's right brow slowly rose, and when Sophie saw the mirth dancing in his eyes, she asked, "What?"

"A murderer is offering you help, and all you're thinking about is your age," he assessed. His index finger arched as he rested it on his chin, grinning. "I think the old age has made you senile." Her face flushed, but Howl didn't catch what she'd grumbled under her breath. She seemed much more cheeky and none too shy at all in her current state…

 _I suppose it comes with the curse_ , he pondered, reaching to take her hand once more. "Come on now. Let's get you away before someone sees." She looked like she'd seen better days, and he didn't want the Witch of the Waste following them again.

Even though he'd taken her hand, Sophie snatched it away. "Now see here! Don't underestimate me just because I'm old!" Her wild yelling sounded at a lower volume than a younger person's might've, but all the same, Howl felt his patience running thin.

"Listen," he said in a clipped tone. "I don't like quarrels."

Sophie scoffed, smacking her chapped lips as she bravely poked him in the chest. "You don't seem to like anything that puts you at a disadvantage, Howl." It was the first time she'd spoken his name and the haughty manner in which she'd spoken it had gotten the perfect reaction out of the man. His eyes became hooded by the way his brows began to furrow. It gave off a murderous impression, but Sophie regarded this with the most unperturbed of stares in her crinkled eyes. If anything, she was enjoying telling him off.

Instead of lashing out with vicious choice of words, Howl took a moment to collect himself and give her a blank stare. "You know nothing about me." There was no evidence of him sounding infuriated, just a quiet acceptance of what she'd said.

"Likewise," she countered. She stood on her own—albeit with a struggle, since she was groaning and it'd taken her over a minute to finally get to her feet—but once she had, she straightened up and felt her back crack. "Oh goodness," she said to herself, walking off. Her hand was touching her aching neck and she felt in desperate need of a cane.

Howl stood as well, rubbing his temples as he followed behind her by about a yard. "I don't understand…" A hint of defeat laced in his low pitch.

Over her shoulder, Sophie beamed at him. "Still thinking about eating me, eh?"

 _Oh, don't look so smug._ "…You've no idea," he said in a conflicted tone. It wasn't as if he truly _wanted_ to be this way, after all.

Sophie's eyes rounded as she fully turned to get a good look at him. He was literally walking behind her with a bit of a drag to his steps while he remained hunched over. His hair was falling forward to shield his expression from view, but from what Sophie just heard, it was obvious Howl's body was acting on impulse; it was acting on…

On his curse…

It wasn't until Howl accidentally bumped into her that he paused and took a few retreating steps back, only to sluggishly take another one forward.

 _It's almost as if he's a slave to his own body_ , Sophie thought.

When Howl noticed her staring, he ducked his head further. "…Who _are_ you?" She was maddening him in more ways way than he'd like to admit.

She hadn't meant to sound teasing, but she answered, "Just call me Grandma Sophie!"

All the same, it at least made him meet her gaze and his lips twitch into a small smile. "Well, _Sophie_ …" He touched his chest with his right hand, bowing slightly. "I'm Howl." She knew his name, just never his face until today.

"Well _Howl_ , come on then." Sophie hitched her thumb over her shoulder. "My home is this way." She cackled when she saw the way Howl's brows furrowed and how baffled he seemed. "I don't know what's happened to me to the fullest, but I'm sure you do, so we'll discuss everything there in private. Hopefully by the time we get there I'll have wrapped my head around this…"

Howl sighed, falling into step behind her as she marched ahead with one mission in mind. "…You're foolish."

"You can't hurt me." She sounded sure of it.

He laxly reached forward to touch her left shoulder, causing them both to pause mid-step. "I _can_ hurt you, Sophie." His voice sounded strained and the barely noticeable despair laced within it went undetected by Sophie. "I just can't _kill_ you. Always remember that." _Please remember that…_

"But you haven't tried to harm me _once_ since then," she reminded him, never turning to face him.

"I've thought about it plenty," he warned. "Even now. Why do you think you haven't changed back yet?"

Sophie wasn't backing down from her assumption. "You tried to help me stand before..." _There's_ some _good in you._

"Have you considered that perhaps it's part of my curse?" He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze before he released it. "It's easier to kill someone when they can trust me." _They approach me as if I'm not a threat._

She didn't sound fazed in the least, but she did cough when she felt a tickle in her throat so she was quick to cover her mouth with her right forearm. Once she lowered it, she said, "Oh? I've always thought it to be the opposite—that it'd be difficult to kill someone who trusts you."

Howl pulled a white handkerchief out of his pocket, offering it to her over her right shoulder while the cloth rested between his index and middle finger. Once she accepted it, he said, "Not if you don't trust them in return." He tensed as she began to cough once more. "The feelings have to be mutual." He was lying through his teeth, of course. He cared for _everyone_ he'd slaughtered. He was just unable to admit it—another element of his curse.

"You're not afraid," he murmured after they fell into step. It was whispered more like a question, though.

She gave him a mindful stare as he went to walk beside her on her left. "I think the nice thing about getting old is the fact that you've _already_ lived." She shrugged absently, clasping her shaking hands in front of her. "So you've got nothing else to lose."

Creases of confusion formed on Howl's forehead while he scrutinized her relaxed demeanor. "That may be true, but in your case I think your curse has given you these feelings. In reality, you're young and you haven't lived at all, Sophie."

She pressed her lips in a tight line, narrowing her eyes. "You know nothing about me, Howl."

"Likewise, old-timer," he retorted, teasing her once more.

Eventually, peevish looks were exchanged between the duo before they paced the rest of the way in silence. Thankfully, Howl's previous pursuers, the Witch of the Waste and her minions, were nowhere in sight…

* * *

As the sun had fully set and the darkness cloaked the sky, Howl and Sophie finally reached her home. It was a tall brown building with a stairs attached, and a flower shop was constructed on the other side of the lane. A long walkway led to the front door of her home, with three wooden beams to support the covering that made up the base of the second floor. A window nearest the front door had beautiful flowers—carnations, lilies and roses that were orange, pink, red and yellow—on display there in a vibrant green vase, adding to the homely feeling.

Nevertheless, the entire area seemed to resemble a ghost town's awakening. No one seemed to be around, and all were out celebrating… Except for the two peculiar cursed souls bound together by the cruelest of fates: Howl and Sophie.

 _The perfect murder scenario_ , Howl mused. He flinched at the thought, reaching up to rub his temples. "We could've gotten here sooner if we'd—"

"I'm not dancing on anymore clouds with you," Sophie warned. Both became unaware of the fact that Sophie's voice was sounding youthful again, or that she had regained a little more energy than she had lost previously, despite her old age still being visible.

Howl smirked, loving that she was once again riled up. "But haven't you ever wondered what it'd be like to dance with fireworks surrounding you?" The idea thrilled him; a captivating love scenario indeed.

"We'd spend more time dodging them than dancing amongst them," she grumbled, sticking her nose towards the sky as she made a 'hmph' noise of disapproval. As she did this, her eyes rounded while catching a glimpse of red and purple fireworks exploding above them. The sight of the flashing colors caused her lips to part.

When Howl noticed her staring, he glanced up to follow her line of vision. "I suppose trying to avoid all those _would_ be a challenge…" _But not impossible..._

"They're beautiful," she said absently.

Howl agreed with a light hum. "Like shooting stars, only they fade faster."

Sophie turned to him, and Howl was startled to see that she was her young, shy self again, even more startled to see that the ends of her lips had softly curled upward and there was a bit of a twinkle in her eyes. He'd missed the fact that he wasn't thinking about taking her heart… "Except you can't make a wish on fireworks," Sophie pointed out. "That's why stars are magical…"

He crossed his arms, scrutinizing her with impartialness projecting from his eyes. "…Sophie?"

"Yes?"

She seemed quite beautiful when she wasn't overtly timid… Something about that stare—or perhaps the confident way she'd articulated her thoughts—had given her more appeal. Instead of voicing this, Howl simply said, "Shall we go inside?"

A blush spread across her cheeks, highlighting her eyes. "R-right…" She hurried down the walkway that led to the front door, and as she turned to him and said, "T-this way," he was careful to duck his head so that he could use his hair to shield the amused simper he couldn't seem to remove from his lips. It was growing as much as her uneasiness exuded through the shaking movements of her hands while she pulled her small iron key out the pocket of her dress. Quivering fingers attempted three times to push it into the keyhole before a hand covered her own.

"Allow me," he said, pushing the key in with ease. Once he twisted both their palms, they heard a click and the door unlocked. He didn't miss the jittery way Sophie gulped and pocketed the key once more.

Upon entering, Sophie shut the door behind them and brushed her bangs to one side out of nervousness. It was unseemly to have a man in her home—and without proper supervision! It… it simply _wasn't_ done, and if anyone found out about this, her reputation would be at stake—rumors would swirl—she wasn't entirely sure whether or not her stepmother could handle it, either. It was crucial not to allow Howl to be seen.

She almost laughed at the idea, knowing that hiding and running away was the wizard's specialty...

Then again, for Sophie's ordinary lifestyle, having a man being discovered in her home would be the highlight of her year.

 _It's not as if he thinks I'm beautiful_ , Sophie reminded herself. _He just wants to eat my heart… but he isn't thinking about it right now._ She saw his eyes scanning over the layout of her home with the simplest of stares—which was difficult to do in the dark…

In the light, he would've seen the bright red rug in the middle of the wooden floor, the dated, but not shabby, yellow sofa and chairs, the beige wallpaper—along with the bookshelf that resided on the farthest end—the stairs to the right, and the simple brown colored kitchen to the left that was separated by a large mahogany frame…

Howl looked composed to her in the darkness from where he stood beside the open window, where the vase filled with flowers resided. It almost appeared as if he were excited to be there… nothing at _all_ like a murderer…

 _Remember that he tried to kill you_ , she mused, scolding herself. _But he might know a way to help… even if it could be for his own benefit._

However, Sophie shook the thought away and made sure to twist the latch on the bronze lock. Next, she moved to the window he'd been standing in front of, pulling the blue drapes shut and she hurried past him, grabbing his right arm in the process. "This way," she whispered.

He followed her, humoring her. "Why are you whispering?" he asked. Both of them were tripping up each step as they ascended to the second floor, but they never fell over, thanks to the wooden railing they clutched. "And can't you light a candle?" It was far too dark to see.

"I don't want anyone to know that we're here if they should come home," she murmured. She was taking extreme measures of caution, and Howl assessed that it was undoubtedly due to nerves. If they were discovered and he thought of eating her heart in their presence, Sophie would revert to the elderly woman from before and she might explain what happened to her, which would cause more people to match a face with that unidentified bounty poster he knew she kept hidden in her pocket.

Another possibility breached his thoughts: Sophie Hatter had probably never tried anything scandalous in her life… She could've been a goody-good.

He chuckled lightly as they finally reached the top of the stairs and Sophie turned to the left, leading them down the hall. Once they'd gotten to her room, she touched the knob and released a long sigh.

"Don't try anything," she warned.

Howl scoffed. "You're being dramatic, Sophie."

"You tried to kill me."

" _Now_ you remember?" She'd never forgotten.

Sophie snapped her head towards the sound of his voice. It was frighteningly dark, and Howl resembled a terrifying shadow creature. "We have to talk about my curse," she said, twisting the knob and pushing the door open. As her opened window came to view, the moonlight made their gazes towards each other known… and also the smirk playing on Howl's lips.

He stepped around her and into her tidy, brown wallpapered room to see the bed on the left wall, right in the center with dull green sheets. An oak desk was beside the large, opened rectangular window and there was a small chair to match that had been angled slightly—as if the last occupant had hurried out without properly positioning it back in place. A few documents lay on top of the desk, along with an abandoned red fountain pen. On the other side of the room—the right wall—a small closet was near, and a small, square green rug with small pink roses in the design was on the floor. Sophie's room certainly wasn't divine in decoration by _any_ means, but it did have a rather inviting feel… a quirky easiness about it…

The way the glow of the moon struck everything gave Howl a darker sensation, though. He quietly went over to the window as Sophie shut her door, and he pulled it closed, locking the latch. "Let's discuss a few things, shall we?"

"Let's," Sophie agreed. She stood there awkwardly, leaning her back against the door while Howl did the same against the window frame. "What did I do to myself, Howl?"

"I tried to kill you," he said simply, shrugging. "So you cursed yourself to avoid the repercussions of my curse."

"But I'm no witch," she stated.

A glint of disbelief flashed in Howl's eyes as he gave a light chuckle, before he seated himself on the edge of her bed with his back facing her curious form. A small ticking sound garnered his attention and he glanced over at the desk. He'd missed the small silver pocket watch near the papers and fountain pen…

Sophie followed his eyes and her smile was tight—but not in a peevish way. It almost appeared as if she were holding back tears… As her heels kissed the floor with each step, she felt her eyes begin to sting, and by the time she reached the desk, gentle fingers brushed over the silver. "It was my fathers…"

The intimate way she admired the small device gave Howl the impression that perhaps the man was deceased. "…Sophie?"

"Yes?"

"Your curse," he started again. "I've heard of the magic used to conjure it before…"

Her eyes darted towards his. "Really? What kind is it?" She didn't know much about types herself—at all really—but she felt the need to ask.

"I believe it's ancient sorcery."

"Ancient?" she asked, stepping closer to him. Her head was titled to the left. "What do you mean?"

He gave her an absent wave of his hand, unsure of what he was truly saying himself—only going by what he detected. "I don't know the best way to explain this, but I can sense a magical seal on your heart that only derives from ancient sorcery—forbidden teachings that I've only _dreamed_ about learning." _Even Suliman warned me against pursuing that type of magic during that apprenticeship… I'll bet the Witch of the Waste would know all about it, but…_

He wasn't exactly on good terms with the woman.

Sophie felt as perplexed as she looked and when she pressed her lips in a tight line, Howl could tell she was trying to process her dilemma. "Meaning?"

"Whatever you've unknowingly conjured up, it's what's keeping you safe from me." He lifted his index finger, pointing at her chest as she seated herself beside him. "The seal you've placed on your heart _can_ be unlocked…" He touched his chin with the tips of his fingers while he contemplated, feeling creases form on his forehead as his brows knitted. "Every seal has a lock…" Gentle digits tapped against his skin absently. "And with every lock there's a key…"

"Find the key and I'll return to normal," Sophie mused to herself, staring out the window. A green firework in the shape of a star had erupted.

Howl gave her a sad smile. "Find the key and I won't hesitate to kill you."

Sophie snapped her head at him. "Howl… I…"

"My curse is designed so that once I find a target, I can't let up," he said.

Sophie's shoulders sank. "At all…?" When he shook his head, she asked, "Have you ever tried?"

"I can't count on both hands how many times I've tried and failed…" He hunched over and propped his forearms on his thighs. "The outcome is always the same. I'm bound to it."

The silence that flooded the room was enough to make Sophie's heart sink. "Can you explain the details of your curse so that perhaps I can understand mine?" When Howl refused to speak, she asked, "Please, Howl? Just tell me if the rumors were true… Do you really eat hearts?"

His face was twisting into one of guilt and torture. "I…"

Minutes trickled by and before Sophie could ask anything else, Howl parted his lips. "…I meet a pretty young girl, I pursue her, and her will is taken over by the curse… Once that happens, she's mine. I either take her heart then and there, or I court her for a while—sometimes to the point where she'll fall in love with me…" He tossed her a glance. "And then I'll eat her heart."

"Why court them just to kill them?"

"The fun of it, I suppose. Every man likes a chase…" He'd spoken it in the quietest of voices, almost as if he were afraid to admit it.

Sophie didn't blame his tone. "…Is that _feeling_ an effect of the curse?"

"Yes and no," he confessed. "I'll also add that I collect some of them—only the ones that gave me a challenge—trophies. I think I'll collect yours when all of this is over…" He hadn't meant to voice that last of his sentence, but the truth was out.

She eyed him with a chill creeping down her spine and it was making goose bumps appear on her arms. Out of comfort, she hugged herself, rubbing her arms in search of warmth. "You said something before about 'will?'"

He gave her a tired nod, resting his face in his hands. It looked a bit dramatic, like he had earlier when he accused Sophie of scuffing his jacket—pettish even. "Every heart has will and yours is very strong. I felt it before you cursed yourself… You would've been a challenge to pursue either way."

"Why did I curse myself to such an old age?"

"My curse only applies to _young_ women, not women old enough to be my grandmother twice over… Beauty is the key, Sophie, and as time progresses, we all lose that."

Sophie frowned upon hearing his words. "But…" Her gaze drifted to the floor and she plopped her hands into her lap, twirling them absently. "I'm not really _pretty,_ Howl… So, it's pointless to pursue me…"

 _Sophie, you're beautiful._ He had to stop himself from blurting it out. "Why else would the curse attract me to you…? And for that matter, why would _you_ feel the need to make a defense against my curse at all?" He lowered his hands and took in her insecure demeanor. _There's nothing worse than a girl who doesn't know how attractive she is… nothing worse than killing someone just because of their appearance._ And idea hit him, one that he knew _could_ end up harming either himself or her, but he had to try… "Sophie?"

Her brown eyes met his, shining with inquisitiveness. "Yes…?"

He'd made up his decision. It was the only plan to possibly help them both; he just hadn't worked out the kinks. "…If you're looking for a way to break your curse, I'll help." _Maybe you can help me break my own along the way…_ When Sophie gazed at him with parted lips and round eyes, he added, "But only because once you do, I'll be forced to eat your heart, Sophie." It was partially true, but Howl had ulterior motives…

Sophie couldn't hide the despair on her face. "How would you help if you want to eat my heart?"

 _If Calcifer can give her a few hints then perhaps she'd be able to solve both of our problems… She_ did _use ancient sorcery, after all…_ He didn't answer her, instead opting to ask, "Do you want to keep changing into an old woman? Because I won't let up on thoughts of killing you if you stay here—even around your family. And you know that I'm still perfectly capable of harming you whether you're young or old, Sophie."

"No, but I don't want to _die_ , either…"

"Then solve _my_ curse before I can solve yours," he said simply. "That way we both live." It seemed reasonable enough, however…

She tossed him an affronted glance. "That's not fair, Howl. You're a wizard; you've had time to study magic…" She huffed, gazing out the window. "And all I've ever done is work in a hat shop…" She was at an extreme disadvantage.

Howl leaned back, placing his palms on the bed so that he could shift all of his weight onto them. "It was _you_ who cursed yourself, Sophie. That counts for more than you'd think." _Find some courage, Sophie. You can do it._

She was his only option at the moment—and a vital one at that.

Sophie Hatter was his last hope before he opted to do something drastic...

Her lips parted in surprise, but he ignored it as he stood, and when he began pacing towards the door of her room, she slowly rose to her feet. The silence was deafening, and the only thing to remind Sophie that she could hear perfectly was the spontaneous blasting of fireworks outside and then the erratic thumping of her heart that followed. "Howl… I don't want to die."

"I can't name one human that does," he countered, teasing her. Upon turning, he saw that her eyes were boring into his own, almost pleading him to spare her in a way… "Then you'll just have to play the game and win."

"Which game would that be?"

He offered her the grimmest of smiles, propping his knuckles on his hips. "I assumed it to be a game of Cat and Mouse at first, but now I'm more keen to playing Finders Keepers."

"You're horrible," she bit out when her ears picked up on the playful tone of his voice. _Horrible Howl_ was her first thought. _Murderer Howl_ had been her second.

"I'm a murderer," he reminded. _And a wizard…_

Sophie shook her head. "Only half of you..." She hadn't changed into an old woman since he'd entered her home, and she knew that counted for something. "I'm going to help us, Howl. I promise… Neither of us deserves this." She was sure there was good in him. He hadn't tried to harm her at _all_ …

Howl chortled lightly; running his hands through his hair while glints of skepticism glimmered in his eyes. " _I_ deserve my curse, Sophie, but you don't deserve yours."

"No one deserves to unwilling go around slaughtering people, Howl."

 _I beg to differ_. "Whatever you say…" He turned to open the door of her room, only to shut it and march over to the window he had locked. As he opened the latch, and pushed the glass forward on the left side so that it protruded out, he said, "Tomorrow morning then."

Sophie blinked. "T-tomorrow?"

"Yes…" He sounded hesitant to add, "I'll show you the biggest hint to breaking my curse." He started to hoist himself on the window's ledge, stepping up first with his right foot and gripping the frame with his left hand, but hearing Sophie's voice made him pause.

"You're going to go eat that girl's heart," she whispered. "Aren't you…?"

Howl made a disagreeable 'tch' sound as he closed his eyes and bowed his head. "...Be sure to lock this window." A deplorable simper of some sorts formed on Howl's lips as he jumped down to the street below.

"Howl, wait!" he heard her call.

Nothing in his mind felt as if it were his own as he landed on the stone and hurried off. Every human thought he had suddenly vanished into a relic of what once was, while something in his chest awakened and erupted like heated coal was being pushed into his chest. He hissed out discomfort, touching the area.

 _I know you're waiting in that very spot_ , he thought, clutching the fabric of his tunic. He felt frantic of what was to come, alarmed… not human. _I wonder if by the end of this I'll be able to remember if I ever_ was _human…_

He knew the worse was yet to come.

* * *

It took Howl a good twenty minutes to wander the streets, and once he had, he found the girl exactly as he'd last seen her, standing in the _exact_ spot he'd first met her, at the end of the street he slowly turned onto. Her green eyes were gazing at the sky while the fireworks burst and called out to the world from above, and like a child in awe, the teenage girl was entirely engrossed in them. Her green eyes were twinkling with excitement, and Howl found the ends of his lips curling downward.

Howl bowed his head, shaking it from side to side. _Here we go again…_ He was fighting a losing battle within his own soul between a false appetite and genuine penitence… Part of him was determined to consume the girl's heart and yet, part of him desired to spare her. The _only_ thing that made him pause was the thought of Sophie.

 _"My curse is designed so that once I find a target, I can't let up," he said._

 _Sophie's shoulders sank. "At all…?" When he shook his head, she asked, "Have you ever tried?"_

 _"I can't count on both hands how many times I've tried and failed…" He hunched over and propped his forearms on his thighs. "The outcome is always the same. I'm bound to it."_

Howl took in a deep breath and he turned to his left, attempting to pace back the way he'd came, only to have his body involuntarily jerk to face the girl he'd been pursuing. As he approached her from behind, he lifted his right hand and forcefully covered it over her mouth to muffle her scream.

She shrieked until she saw that it was him and when he lowered his palm, the smile he gave her was false.

"You're here," she breathed out.

Again, he thought of Sophie. _"Have you ever tried?"_ He blinked the memory away, and took the girl's left hand in both of his. "I told you I would be…" _Run_ is what he wanted to scream at her, but every time his lips parted, they abruptly shut.

 _I feel so strange_ , the girl thought. She knew she shouldn't be there, but she couldn't help but trust Howl. She felt… safe, and yet she couldn't understand why. Even as Howl offered her the most sadistic of smiles, she couldn't stop herself from giving him a soft one in return. Even as he lowered his head to give her one final kiss, she didn't suspect that these were her last moments in Market Chipping, nor did she notice the black talons inching out of what used to be his fingernails as he placed his hand on her waist and trailed it up to her chest.

It wasn't until their lips brushed for the briefest of seconds that she felt small pricks against her skin—a small, teasing tapping of what felt like five needles—that she comprehended her eyes had closed. When she opened them, all she saw were contrite eyes that didn't match the wicked grin on Howl's lips…

Her life was over before she had a chance to fathom it being taken… and, unfortunately for Howl, he could remember every detail of what he'd done clearly—the blood, the scream, and the palatable _taste_ of her heart he had ripped out and ate in greediest of methods…

And now…

Howl was quivering. As he leaned against a nearby building with his palms pressed against the wall, scratching his nails unnaturally against the brown stone tiles, he tried to regain his rationality—noticing there was barely any there to sooth him. His head was sunk low and fresh tears were bucketing from his eyes while his shoulders shuddered and his brows involuntarily twitched inward. An occasional snivel could be heard over the fireworks while he tried his best to formulate a sensible justification for such an act of mercilessness…

He found none.

Howl had done the incogitable...

He'd eaten her heart.

 _But it can't be helped_ , he thought, smacking his right palm against the wall while he sucked in his bottom lip. _I can't fight it…_ He felt like a helpless child, so vulnerable and petrified. _Nothing_ would validate this moment—with taking yet another life…

He wasn't keen on leaving her to rot and waiting for someone to find her the next morning… but it wasn't wise to have someone find him standing so near to her corpse… It was best to leave, to run like he always did. So, he pushed himself off the brown wall and staggered down the street.

Fresh crimson dripped from his lips as he did this, and when he mopped the back of his hand over his mouth, it smeared on the lower part of his face. A horrific, haunting shock flooded around his puffy pink eyes, and as he ran his hand through his hair, he felt as if he were in need of another haircut.

 _What an odd thought to have at a time like this_ , he scolded himself, sniffling slightly.

His feet moved on his own as he slinked back to the nearest place he could hide out in his delirious state: Sophie's home. It took him approximately thirty minutes to get there, and another minute or two before he jumped onto her window ledge and easily pulled open the glass to find her dreaming under her sheets. The only part of her that could be seen was the back of her head—her long reddish-brown hair to be exact, and the rise and fall of her body under the blanket.

 _Perhaps the curse didn't work when she was asleep…_ _She'd be an easy kill in her slumber…_

For the life of him, Howl couldn't stop quivering, and as he inched over to her, he felt his eyes begin to water. His right hand lifted and he held his breath, hoping that Sophie's curse would protect her…

 _Come on, Sophie_ , he thought. _Don't make me do this again…_

Sure enough, that reddish-brown hair changed into a sparkling shade of grey and he sank to floor with a thud, collapsing into a horrified, yet relieved, heap as he took in ragged breaths.

The thump startled Sophie awake and she rolled over, shrieking when she opened her eyes to see Howl lying on the floor. "Howl, you—!" She paused, taking in his disorientated state as she rubbed at her hooded eyes. "H-Howl…?" She touched her throat once her ears picked up the low, hoarse pitch. _I'm old again… He's thinking about…_

Howl rotated so that she could no longer see his ashamed, bloodstained face. "I thought I told you to lock the window…" His voice sounded frail, like he'd been crying.

Brown eyes darted toward the opened glass before drifting back to the man lying on her wooden floor. He was curled into a ball, hugging himself with his back to her. "I thought I…" _Oh, I must've forgotten…_ She knew from the look she'd seen in his eyes when she'd awoken that he didn't truly wish to be this way. "Howl…?"

He refused to answer her.

"Howl," she tried again.

"…What is it, Sophie?"

She peered down at her hands, watching the liver spots, wrinkles, and protruding blue veins disappear into soft flesh once more before she climbed out of bed. Small patters were heard as she rushed to her closet to fetch a large blue blanket. Once she retrieved it, she hurried over to Howl and placed it around him as she knelt, carefully touching his left arm afterwards. "I'm going to do everything I can to help you break this curse," she whispered. "I'm going to save us both, Howl. I promise." _No one deserves to live like this._ She peered over his shoulder to see that his glass-marble eyes were despondent and focused on nothing in particular.

He looked like a man who'd seen death a thousand times over, an accurate statement for one who'd stolen so many lives...

"I'm going to help you," she whispered again. "I'll break your curse." Or she'd die trying…

 _You say this when you can't even break your own curse…_ All Howl could force out was, "Lock the window, Sophie." Heaven forbid the Witch of Waste found them while they were sleeping.

He didn't spare her another glance as she went to achieve the task, nor did he speak when she assured, "I promise…"

Howl didn't know how long he stayed up brooding over the homicide he had committed on May Day, but during the rest of the night, his eyes refused to close after the first time he'd attempted to shut them. _All I keep seeing is her face_ , he thought, pulling the blue blanket up to his chin like a child afraid of what lingered around in the dark. A chilling expression radiated within his blue eyes. _Every face I've wronged… every heart I've taken…_

Glass-marble blue eyes remained wide and appeared vacant... Some hours later, they hadn't shut, and paranoid ears twitched every so often, picking up on the small ticking sounds of the pocket watch on Sophie's nearby desk.

The longer Howl heard them, the more his eyes began to sting and his vision had become fogged in tears that just wouldn't fall. Trembling hands slithered up to cover his ears out of sheer psychosis. _I—I can hear it…_ His eyes darted towards the desk in all their petrified glory. _That sound…_

In Howl's mind, each time the hand on the small pocket watch budged, he noticed the ticks beginning to mellow out into familiar rhythm… a peculiar, hastened _thump_. He knew the tempo that mocked him. It harmonized the beat of the girl's heart he'd just consumed.

The idea of his mind playing tricks on him caused his eyes to slowly drift back over to the previous spot along the wall, and he tapped his fingers against his head in time with the ticks. A defeated groan escaped him, and he knew that even if he tried, he wouldn't be able to make it back to his castle in the maddening condition he suddenly found himself in tonight…

This wasn't a normal drama fit for Howl to have—quite the opposite, and more along the borders of feeling utterly lost in an abysmal desolation of inner mayhem with no recollection of his own integrity. If he were having a normal fit, he would have summoned some shadows from the darkness and slumped around in his dismay for an hour or so…

Howl internally scoffed at the idea.

He _wished_ he could be so lucky tonight…

* * *

By morning, the white in his eyes were blood shot, and he didn't bother to blink until the sunlight had begun to creep its way into Sophie's room, inching down on his face to alert him that he and Sophie had a long day ahead of them. He'd give her a clue about his curse. _I'll show her Calcifer_ , he thought, sitting up. _He'll be the biggest hint of all._

Howl gazed down at himself while he wrapped the blue blanket Sophie had given him around his shoulder, noticing speckles of bloodstains splatting his white tunic. _Ah, last night…_ He didn't seem at all fazed. In fact, there was a chipper aura surrounding him, the same one that had been lingering when he arrived in Market Chipping yesterday.

He simply enveloped himself in the blanket and yawned, trudging over to the desk. When his ears picked up on the sound of the pocket watch, he smiled. _No heartbeats…_ His grin widened. _None at all…_ He nearly cackled in delight, but a sharp knock startled him, causing him to jump and nearly trip over the chair as his eyes flickered to the right—towards the door.

"Sophie!" her stepmother called on the other side. Howl peered down at the bed to see that Sophie was still sound asleep, lying on her stomach with her head turned to the left and her arms splayed out around her. Her light breathing caused him to tilt his head… She truly looked at peace.

Howl felt a twinge of jealousy at the blissful sight. _She_ certainly _looks like she slept well._ He couldn't say the same for himself.

Her stepmother gave the door three more urgent knocks. "Sophie, dear! There's a woman in the shop asking for your assistance!"

When Howl saw the knob jiggle, he rushed over to the door and he managed to close it just in time before the woman had completely pushed it in. _I don't have time to come up with a good enough disguise if she enters... unless I put Sophie under the bed…_ He grinned at the thought, but opted that it wasn't the wisest thing to do, in case the girl woke up screaming from finding herself in a compromising position.

"Sophie!" her stepmother called again. "Are you all right in there?!"

Howl shrugged, smirking as he forced out a strangled—mind you, terribly _inaccurate_ —version of Sophie's feminine, dulcet voice. "Oh, no! I'm terribly ill today!" he shouted, sounding two octaves higher than what he was used to. When the knob jiggled once more, Howl said, "Don't come in! I don't want you to catch anything!" For emphasis, he feigned a cough. "Just go on!" It sounded pathetic to his ears, and he couldn't remember the last time he made a proper disguise, or a voice to match. It had been far too long, and during his apprenticeship, Howl was the paragon for what a brilliant wizard should be, but... he supposed that he was _bound_ to forget basics that he hadn't used in a while. They weren't the same practices he was teaching Markl now, quite different...

Nonetheless, the guise had fooled Sophie's stepmother.

"Oh!" she said, sounding startled. "Sophie, you sound ghastly—almost like some hoarse _man_!"

Howl rolled his eyes. _If only you knew…_

"Well," she said on the other side. "I'll be sure to tell the woman you can't be seen today." As Howl peered down, he saw the shadow of her footsteps before they retreated. "And she specifically requested you…"

When he heard this, Howl's eyes widened. "Wait!" As he cracked the door open by a mere smidge, and pressed part of his lips against the frame, he quickly said, "Tell me. Did this woman appear… _larger_ than our average customers?" He was still using his best impersonation of Sophie's voice he could muster, and he was doing all that he could to prevent himself from chortling at the idea of the _customer_ waiting in the hat shop.

"In what way?" the woman asked. As Howl shut the door to hide his face as she re-approached, she asked, "Do you mean large in wealth or…" She cleared her throat by producing an uncomfortable cough. "Stature?"

With mirth in his voice, Howl replied, "Both."

"Yes, I… I suppose," the woman replied, absently. "Do you know her, Sophie?"

"…Can you stall her for as long as you can?" Howl asked instead. "I'll be down shortly."

"But you just said you were—"

" _Much_ better now," Howl assured her. He lifted his index finger, adding, "And I'll need you all to remain as polite as possible when speaking to the witch—woman!" He gave a light cough, finishing with, "Overtly so..." _She can be a bothersome hand full._

"Why's that?"

Delighted crinkles formed around his amused eyes. _Because you don't want her targeting you like she is Sophie because of me._ "I wouldn't keep her waiting." She was rather indefatigable.

The silence that ensued caused Howl to cover his mouth, suppressing a scoff.

"...If you say so," she agreed before walking off.

When Howl was sure the woman had left he turned, plopping his back against the door in a slump. "Goodness..." As he peered up at the ceiling, he shook his head and rubbed his face in exasperation at the thought of the vile woman, allowing the blanket to fall to the floor. "I at least have to applaud her persistence," he admitted with a sigh, sounding irate. Once the wizard had gotten over his shock, his eyes drifted towards Sophie's sleeping frame.

"Sophie," he whispered, walking towards her. "Sophie, you've _got_ to get up." _That devil of a woman's parading around in your hat shop!_ He knew she wasn't there to purchase anything. It was time to do what he did best: run away.

"Sophie," he tried again. He came around the left side of the bed, and the mattress dipped as he shifted his weight onto one knee and reached for her. When he forcefully nudged her awake, he was quick to clasp his right hand over her mouth before she could scream. During this, Sophie had sat up wildly, and he had grabbed her right arm with his free hand when she tried to strike him. Her braid flung around so much during her frantic, struggling movements—meaning her flailing leg movements and her attempts to claw at him—that it came undone in her fight to free herself from her attacker.

"Sophie," he said in an jaded tone, taking in her wide eyes as she froze. "It's just me."

" _Ow_?" was her muffled reply of his name.

His hand fell to his side as he seated himself beside her, chuckling lightly at her endearing display. "Sleep well?"

A frown tugged at her lips while her brown eyes scrutinized him. She tucked her hair behind her ears, noticing the blood on his clothes and mouth from last night and the tips of her fingers on her right palm touched her bottom lip in distress. "Oh, you look _awful_ , Howl."

 _I suppose, there's a first time for everything…_ He grimaced, never wanting to hear that statement again, and as soon as he returned to his castle, he was going to waste no time in locking himself in his bathroom for hours on end and fixing all the work he managed to ruin yesterday. "Your face is going to match mine once I tell you about the customer invading your hat shop." The woman was known for her macabre behavior as much as Howl was, after all...

Her brow slowly arched as he waited for her to speak. "Who is it?"

In a juvenile manner, he found himself grinning once more, and he eagerly said, "Guess." Excitement was dancing in his eyes; it matched his tone perfectly. "Go on. It's someone that apparently knows you well enough to pay you a visit." _And more importantly, she knows_ me _...  
_

Sophie found herself blinking while Howl flashed her one of his brilliant smiles. He seemed highly jocular this morning, a contrast to the utter anguish visible on his expression last night. "Is it one of my sisters?"

Howl didn't know she even had siblings to begin with. He'd just met the girl yesterday and he knew she was possibly his only hope to helping him in his predicament. " _What_?" He nearly pouted. _She's no good at games, I see_... His arms crossed in disappointment. "No, Sophie," he said, lifting a shoulder. "It's the Witch of the Waste."

The casualness in his statement was what spooked Sophie the most.

…

 **A/N:** I'm trying to find the best way to portray Howl as murderer who doesn't want to kill but still have qualities that make him... _him_. I also want to emphasize that the curse is a weighty feeling (or burden) to carry, like a heart to be exact. ;) The next chapter is faster paced than these last two were, and there _will_ be castle scenes. I thought the pacing needed to be slower for this one to crescendo into the movement of the next one. I know Howl's and Sophie's curses aren't entirely explained here, but the gist of it is. Technicalities will be explained as the fic progresses but I think everything ties into canon fairly well once the rest is put out.

Editing this was a _nightmare_! You're welcome to leave a review and give feedback. :)

 **Replies to guest reviews:**

 **Dandelion Floof:** I like slow romances myself. It's nearly all I write in my fanfics so no worries there. ;) Also, thanks for the advice! I went back and added a little more description for one scene (and I'm going back to add more to others) but if you'd be so kind as to tell me which ones you think are a little barren and need to be fleshed out? That'd be great! And for the life of me, I can't seem to find a balance of writing out facial expressions—showing them vs telling them. My professor for my creative writing class says I need to find a balance of both but I'm not entirely sure I know how to do that just yet. Does this chapter look better in terms of that? I feel like I'm dumping a lot on you right now lol so I'm sorry if I am and if it's too much trouble you don't have to. Thanks for taking the time to review by the way! :) Helped a lot with writing out this chapter.

 **James Birdsong:** Thanks! Feel free to let me know if something seems off or ya know, whatever else you think of the fic. :)


	3. In Which Howl and Sophie Meet the Witch

**Replies to guest reviews at the bottom!**

 **Chapter 3: In Which Howl and Sophie Meet the Witch of the Waste**

 _Drat._

His playful mood had turned sour, and there was no way around this predicament. If Howl stepped foot inside the hat shop, the witch would surely recognize him—whether he was disguised or garbed as himself—and if Sophie stepped into the hat shop… well, the poor girl was doomed by a grievous fault. Because of this, Howl felt irrevocably responsible for any wrongdoing that was _bound_ to happen to Sophie Hatter that beautiful morning—and for allowing the witch to potentially best him at his own game of Cat and Mouse.

 _It's not fair_ , Howl thought, pouting at the changing conditions. Up until now, he'd never lost a game. His brows knitted and they only relaxed once he realized that if he kept doing the action, he'd get... _wrinkles._ They were like the plague to him. They easily spread and created sons, daughters, sisters, brothers, cousins, nieces, nephews—probably twice removed on their mother's side—and every other relative he could think of.

He'd have _none_ of that aging business.

Heaven forbid he developed laugh lines…

"…Howl," he heard Sophie call in a cautious, hushed tone. Her hands were clasped together in her lap from where she sat on the bed. "You're scaring me." She was under the impression that she'd be making this statement far too often while she tried to break their curses, and her eyes were following his every agitated movement.

Howl had been pacing back and forth near the bed for quite some time now, debating on whether or not the plan he had devised would benefit either of them. He'd risk Sophie's wellbeing if he put the idea into motion; that much was certain. However, he couldn't bring it upon himself to request such a dangerous task of her. The fact that he still had yet to clean the blood from his hands and face—and the splotches that stained his white shirt—caused Sophie to think of how true he matched the rumors circulating about him… how murderous he reminded her that he was.

"Howl?" she called cautiously. "Will you _please_ calm down?" _Wasn't he less anxious before…?_

He paused mid-step, giving her a brusque turn of his head. "Calm down?" He crossed his arms, scoffing at the horrendous idea. "You're awfully _calm_ , Sophie." He touched his chin with his right hand, eyeing the ceiling vaguely while he ranted to himself. "Yes, you are quite at ease right now…" He shrugged. "Although, I suppose since you're in a room with a murderer, knowing you're meeting the Witch of the Waste wouldn't be _that_ much of a revelation…"

Sophie was getting annoyed, but she kept her voice level to keep the emotion at bay. Her slitting eyes and pursed lips gave away far more than she would have liked, though. "I'm trying to think rationally about this, Howl."

"Do you enjoy being so close to death?" he suddenly asked. The question had thrown Sophie off guard. Howl could tell by the way her cheeks flamed and her lips parted.

"Wh-what?" she asked.

A small, knowing simper quirked onto Howl's lips as his cheeks slowly lifted. "Ah, so you _do_ enjoy being so close to death. Gives you quite a rush, doesn't it?"

Sophie tried her best to look offended, but Howl could see right through her. As she stood, she turned from him and marched around the bed, ignoring his grin while she headed towards the window. "I don't know what you mean…" She clasped her hands together in front of her abdomen, knowing her words to be a lie.

Howl chuckled lightly, and his boots clicked against the floor as he slowly proceeded towards her. "Sophie," he said softly. "It's perfectly normal to love thrills."

"I've no need for them," Sophie said, shaking her head. Her bangs moved about with the action.

"I beg to differ."

Her eyes closed as she touched her chest, feeling her heart beating. "You don't know me, Howl," she reminded. "You know _nothing_ about me." She turned to find that he was directly behind her, his eyes dancing with complacency. She wasn't sure whether to admire him or slap that look right off his perfectly, fawned over face. The latter would give her more satisfaction; she knew that much was certain.

As the blond propped his left knuckle on his hip, he asked, "Would you truly deny yourself an adventure because you pretend to only like simple things?"

Howl watched as Sophie unknowingly brought her hand to touch her temples, thinking it over. When he noted how distraught she looked, he took her right hand in his and dipped his head towards her face. They were nearly nose-to-nose as he queried, "Would you deny an adventure with _me_ , Sophie?"

He wasn't fooling her. She knew perfectly well that this was the curse causing Howl to spew such sweet nothings to her… or so she'd suspected…

However…

 _I'm not changing into an old woman_ , she thought. Her ponytail was reddish-brown once again, draping over her left shoulder and her skin wrinkle-free… She wasn't transforming—no protection curse was temporarily at play… In a low, surprised murmur, she whispered, "You're… you're really being truthful…" Hell must've been freezing over.

Chuckling, Howl pressed his forehead against hers in the gentlest of manners before retreating—almost as if he were humoring her own statement. All too quickly, his smile faded and his brows knitted while he searched her face for any signs of aging… _I_ am _being truthful_ , he thought, stunned by his own request from earlier. _Oh, dear…_ "…Sophie?"

"Yes?"

"Remember what I am," he reminded, sounding somber. "Remember _why_ we're working together—to rid each other of our curses—to hope that you can break mine before I find a way to break yours..." _I do hope you win the game..._

Giving him a mindful gaze, she bowed her head. "I remember what you are, Howl."

He didn't like the pacifying tone she was using. "Do you?" he pressed. "Truly?"

Again, she nodded. "You're just like me—unlucky." She thought it best to make light of the situation, considering how tense the wizard appeared. She felt a tug at her heart strings upon seeing such an expression on his features.

Apparently, the jest must've worked, because they both shared a brief smile before Howl turned and headed towards the door. Sophie hurried after him, and as he opened it, he said, "I'll follow after you in disguise."

Stepping out, Sophie frowned at him. "But Howl—"

The gentle way he touched her shoulders put her at ease. "If _I_ can't harm you, I'm sure she can't." Or at least he presumed… His glass-like eyes flickered to the left when he heard footsteps. No doubt Sophie's mother coming to collect her once more. "You should go," he encouraged, shooing her off with a wave of his hand. "I won't be long." _There'd be no minute wasted._ Not when it came to Sophie Hatter... his only potential ticket to freedom.

He gave her no time to reply before closing the door, hearing Sophie's rushed footsteps head down the hall, and hurriedly descending the stairs. As he turned and rested his back against the door, he asked himself, "What should I disguise myself as in order to enter the hat shop…?" The possibilities were endless for the wizard, although picking one that suited him had to be taken with the utmost precaution. He had his pride—and vanity—to consider as well, so something, or someone, well tailored would surely suit him.

Rubbing his chin, he sighed. "I can't be a person this time, can I?" The witch would expect him that of him. He'd been masquerading as different countrymen in his last seven rounds of fleeing. The guise was getting old, and he suspected that a new plan would suit him—lest he go out of style… _Then again, making myself into another person would be considered classic at this point._ His feet began to pace around the room absently in the smallest of circles.

"Maybe a dog…?" His eyes flickered towards the ceiling as he'd spoken the glib remark, leaving the question up for debate. Eventually, he made as sour face, the idea seeming ludicrous. " _Hardly_ an idea worthy of exploring…" And just when Howl assumed no form suitable, he snapped his fingers, a brilliant smile flashing on his dashing features as he headed towards the door…

And when it opened, no _person_ was left in the entryway—no breath from said object was taken, and Howl was eventually found by a stranger…

* * *

"I'm sorry, madam," Sophie said, sounding a bit timid as she brought her curled hand to her chest. "But I'm not running the shop today…" She was standing in front of a large wooden desk, with a purple-carpeted floor to greet her heeled boots, and every shelf, and display, in the room was covered in hats—or 'tacky hats' as the Witch of the Waste had so resentfully described it.

The larger than life woman was standing close to the wooden door in an unflattering, form-fitting black dress. Fur aligned the back collar of it, leaving the front two ends to hang from her broad shoulders. The wide brimmed hat she wore to match hid the only stylish thing on her gluttonous shaped body: her light colored hair.

"Why's that?" her hoarse, boastful sounding voice asked Sophie. Her green eyes narrowed into calculated slits, and the rivaling eye shadow on her lids did her no favors in the looks department, unless she were auditioning for the part of a jester. "I was under the impression from your mother that _you_ were the hardest worker around here." She scoffed. "I knew she was wrong."

Sophie ignored a female coworker entering—and placing an extravagant, flowery, wide brimmed blue hat on the nearest display before exiting—in favor of counting how many rolls the witch had stacked on her neck. After realizing this, she gulped, blinking out of her trance. "I-I'm going out of town for a long while," she explained. "And I'm leaving this morning." _Where are you Howl?_ The woman was soon to drive her mad, and although Sophie didn't declare herself a beauty, she knew she could far surpass this vile woman in appearance on the most horrid of days… That alone spoke volumes about the wicked character that stood before her.

 _Couldn't she use her magic to make herself look beautiful?_ Sophie didn't know how right she was about that statement—especially because it pertained to Howl and the Witch's history.

The woman grunted, turning at a rather sluggish movement on her heels to gaze at the newly placed hat. _The only decent hat in this shop..._ "Really? And where might you be off to?"

Sophie could feel her temper rising. "I'm afraid that's none of your business, madam." She _meant_ to sound as haughty as she had, and to give her the small glare that she gave, however, she only _meant_ to do these things in her _thoughts_ … not to actually display them.

The woman gave her a smug smirk as she turned around. "You've got some guts speaking to the Witch of the Waste like that."

Sophie's glower faltered as the woman took a step towards her. _She can't harm me_ , she reminded in a quick, fretful chant. _She can't…_ Her eyes focused on the elegant blue hat that had been placed in the shop. _I don't recall making that hat…_ Sophie worked diligently, and she made sure that she handcrafted each hat to the best of her abilities… _It must be the one mother talked about… although something seems off._ It was far too flamboyant of a hat to have _ever_ entered the shop—even by her mother's standards. It practically glowed with sophistication and the color shimmered as if it were put together with the tiniest of crystals and diamonds to give it a shine that radiant and envious…

For a lady's hat, she knew of only one _man_ that would ever purchase it. _Howl_ , she thought, feeling more relieved now. It practically screamed Howl's handy work. "You'll have to excuse me," Sophie said again, more absently this time as she locked eyes with the woman. "But I'm going out of town for a while. I'm in quite a rush."

The woman tilted her head. "Could it be that you're meeting Howl?" She took another step towards Sophie. "Well then," she said, spreading her arms. Sophie only had time to feel a rush of air surrounding her as she braced herself and shielded her arms in front of her until the chaotic winds vanished. When it was over, Sophie lowered her arms just in time to see the door start to shut and the witch say, "Give my regards to Howl." The click of the entrance shutting was the only indication she needed to know the woman wasn't returning.

She looked down at herself, noticing that she was now an old woman, but as she gazed down at her veiny, wrinkled fingers, she couldn't help but smile as she watched them change. "You were right, Howl," she whispered in amazement, lifting her palms and slowly flipping them as she watched the wrinkles vanish. Even hearing how her voice shifted from a hoarse, elderly woman to her youthful tone seemed amazing to experience. "I'm protected against _her_ curses as well."

The blue hat rumbled until it burst into fireworks, exploding into colorful sprinkles of red, blue, green, and yellow until it formed into the shape of a tall man. Sophie watched as Howl's distinct features began to morph from the shape until he was sharing the same grin she wore on her own features.

"It worked, Sophie!" he exclaimed, rushing over to her. He took her by the waist, lifting her once in his childish excitement, and he twirled fluidly in a circle. It was after he placed her firmly back on the ground that he took her hand in his own and led her towards the back door with rushed steps.

"Howl?" Sophie asked, tripping over her own feet as they ran. Howl pushed the door open and before Sophie had time to react and he leapt into the air, hearing Sophie's surprised scream during the movement.

It wasn't until after Howl had fully ascended into the clouds that he leaned down to whisper, "You can open your eyes now," to the terrified Sophie Hatter.

She hadn't realized they were closed, to be perfectly honest. Peeking them open, she gasped and clutched onto his right hand. "I swear, Howl! If you're trying to eat my heart again—!"

His chuckling caused her to trail off. "Would you like a real dance this time?"

She was quick to decline with a shake of her head as he briskly walked through the air. Her feet moved in time with his own. "N-no," she said, glancing down at the town. "I… where are we going?"

"To see Calcifer," he explained. "He can help you solve our curses… Will you please relax?"

"It's unsettling," Sophie admitted, clutching his arm tighter as he picked up his pace.

"You didn't mind so much the first time," he reminded.

"You weren't trying to kill me _until_ we started dancing," she commented. They sounded like a bickering married couple, and when Howl realized this, he quieted.

It wasn't until they were a good bit away from town and heading straight into the dangerously blinding fog that Sophie asked, "Howl, where does Calcifer live?"

"With me," he answered, sounding distracted as he glimpsed to his left. "Don't be alarmed, but we might have a rough landing."

"Is something—?" The air was knocked out of her as they descended towards the earth, and the fog gave no indication of when they'd meet the ground. The Waste wasn't anything like the town of Market Chipping. It was quite grim in comparison when the weather randomly turned like this.

The wind, steam blowing, and the sound of squeaking gears turning were the only hint Sophie was given to be warned that the moving castle was near. She saw a brief glance of the outside of the castle—barely—but it was only the odd outline of blackness as Howl flew her onto the porch steps. Their feet landed with a thump and she braced herself by grabbing his shoulders while he did the same to her waist. The wooden door opened and Howl pushed her inside—but not before Sophie turned and saw something resembling a stick figure hobble towards them just as the door slammed shut.

"Master Howl's back!" Markl shouted as Howl and Sophie paced up the stone steps. The child looked no more than ten, sporting a white shirt with a green vest and matching pants. A bowtie rested around his collar and his brown shoes trailed behind Howl's tall frame as his dark eyes took in the stranger he brought in with him. As his lips parted, he scratched his red hair and watched as Howl guided Sophie into the only available wooden chair in front of the large, stone fireplace, which was covered in abundant soot. "Um… Master Howl? Who's this?"

Howl paid no one else any mind as he went towards the stacked logs, picked a few up, and tossed them into the burning fire. "I guess I'll bother you for a bath later," he whispered as he peered down at the fire.

Sophie's brow arched from where she sat—and rather uncomfortably at that. "Bother _who,_ Howl?"

Turning to her, he pointed at the child standing before them. "This is Michael."

"Markl," the boy corrected.

Howl gave him a knowing look as he inclined his head to the right, smiling a little. "Sophie's here to help break my curse—and her own included. Perhaps she could help you with yours as well, _Michael_." He made a 'tsk' noise. "It seems everyone in this castle has problems."

"Markl," the boy said again, huffing his puffy cheeks as he pouted. "It's _Markl_ , Master Howl…" Howl's amused grin proved otherwise.

Sophie's head tilted as she studied the look being exchanged between the two. "So which is it really? Markl, or Michael?"

"Michael," Howl corrected at the same time the boy answered, "Markl."

Sophie raised her right hand shyly. "Well, I'm still me… just Sophie." She missed the thoughtful look Howl sent her way. "Happy to help."

"Are you a witch?" Markl asked with wide eyes.

Sophie almost answered, had the sight of the castle's interior not made her want to gag. It was dreadfully dirty—and her throat felt stuffy at the mere sight. She touched it to feel that she had a tickle forming due to the dust. Her eyes scanned the shelves that greeted her on the wall opposite the fireplace and to the right of the door. Spells books and jars of what appeared to be hearts in a mysterious blue liquid occupied each vacancy, and she had to tear her eyes away in order to hold back the scream in her throat.

"Trophies?" she guessed, feeling repulsed.

Howl followed where her gaze had been last. "…You could say that."

Sophie said nothing, gazing at the rectangular table positioned underneath the shelves. It was covered in potions and trinkets and scrolls—even food—particularly a loaf of bread, some eggs, and some Monterey cheese… Three chairs were sitting idly nearby, looking about as untouched and dusty as the stone floor and the wooden ceiling, where black spiders were cozied in their webs. It made Sophie fold her hands into her lap, unsure of what to do next in such a place. "Howl… when was the last time you cleaned this place?" It looked like it hadn't been touched in centuries, save for the only window nearest the doorsteps.

All too quickly, Howl sighed. "I have to be going, Michael. Take care of Sophie while I'm gone." He glanced at the area under the stairs. "She could sleep there if you can make her a small bed." He spared her the briefest of glances. "I woke you up in a fright. You must be tired." There was a hidden demand for her to sleep while he was away, but she wasn't sure why. Protective? Perhaps... The air around him seemed different, though, and Sophie knew where he was off too as his feet hurried to the door.

"Howl?" she called. "You didn't meet anyone else while you were with me, did you...?"

"No," he whispered. "This girl lives in Porthaven…" He would kill her this morning. "I've been courting her for weeks, just to let her heart marinate for a while." Over his shoulder, he said, "They taste better that way if you wait… like reading about the journey of lovers in a romance novel…" He sounded so bitter in his speech, almost as if he wished he weren't going.

Sophie ran after him, racing down the steps, and grabbing his right hand before he could get to the door, and that was when she noticed the many switches on the golden dial near it. One was green, the other blue, one red, and the last was black. "Howl," she whispered. "You can fight this…"

The comment gave him déjà vu.

"I'll be back before breakfast," he stated, pulling out of her grasp and opening the latch. The switch on the dial flipped, but Sophie hadn't glanced at the color, only his retreating back as he leaped out of the door and it slammed in front of her.

"Howl," she croaked out, feeling her throat burn.

"I knew it!" Markl shouted. "You really are a witch!"

Sophie snapped her head up to see him leaning his upper form on the banister that was attached to the floor which connected with the doors attached to the stairs. It was probably there to prevent anyone from falling over next to the window. "What do you mean?"

"You were an old woman just then!" Markl said. "And Master Howl noticed—he looked really upset!"

Sophie's eyes widened at the news and she peered down at herself. Of course, she looked perfectly fine now; Howl was gone… _Oh, Howl_ , she thought with a sullen sigh as she ascended the stairs. _I do hope you spare her life…_ But she knew it was impossible.

It was after she climbed the stone steps that she noticed the wooden ones leading upstairs on the farthest side of the room… "Markl," she said.

"Yes?" a slightly older voice asked.

Sophie jumped at the noise, startled when she turned to see that Markl was indeed older by at least five years, taller too, and his hair was slightly longer. His clothes fit him oddly, and Sophie was sure that centuries from now all the girls would call the formfitting getup a new fad…

"You're," Sophie started. "You aged?"

"No," Michael said. "This is my normal age. I'm fifteen."

Sophie squinted in confusion. She appeared to be dreaming—surely she _must've_ been to see something this strange... However, her curse was no different—save for it involving her heart being eaten. Markl's curse was a wonder; the boy she new had sprouted a good two feet within the blink of an eye. "How... how did you do that?" she asked.

"It's not by choice," Michael explained with a grim sigh. "It happens randomly."

"Who did this to you?" Sophie asked.

Michael opened his lips to speak, only to have them close forcefully. After struggling to formulate a sentence, he gave up and huffed, combing his hand through his hair. "Are you hungry, Sophie? Master Howl says he'll be back before breakfast, but he's usually gone until after noon if he leaves at this hour."

"I… I think I should go to sleep," she whispered, feeling fatigued. It was dreadfully early. "Maybe we could eat once I wake up…" _After this castle gets cleaned._ She wasn't about to sit in a filthy castle amongst aging dust bunnies while she had a cursed boy, and a murderer, breathing down her neck. She needed some semblance of humanity to keep her going if she were to be here… The sooner she fixed Howl's curse, the sooner she could go back to her family.

Michael gave a firm bow of his head and ran towards the area under the stairs. "I'll make you a bed!"

"Thank you," she said tiredly, going to seat herself by the fire. "Shouldn't you find more suitable clothes?" She absently placed another log into the fire and she felt her eyes wanting to close themselves...

Just as she was on the brink of sleep, a voice murmured, "That's some curse ya got there, lady." In her fatigued state, she assumed it to be Markl—Michael—whatever it was he called himself…

"Come on, Sophie," she heard the boy say as he ushered her out of the chair and led her to her new bed under the stairwell.

"Did you let her in here?" the voice said again yawning. He appeared to be whining from being awoken by Markl's voice, and seeing Sophie.

"I didn't!" Markl said, sounding as childish as ever. And Sophie could tell he was pouting once more, back to his ten-year-old self. "Master Howl did."

"Oh boy," the voice said. "I hope Howl didn't bring her in here just to eat her later." They'd both seen it happen before—completely by accident, though. It was when Howl's curse first started.

All was silent before Markl whispered, "Me either, Calcifer..."

 **…**

 **A/N:** Really long update; I know. Terribly sorry! I didn't make this one too long, as the next one is really long and I didn't want to make it over 13,000 words. I can't even sit through that lol thanks for reading and if you'd like you can leave a review, or hit any of the buttons below. I don't mind either and both are welcome. :]

Best Regards,

AJ

 **Replies to guest reviews:**

 **James Birdsong:** Awesome, that means I'm doing my job right!

 **Mikoto13:** Yeah, I noticed that when I write, too. I think it just depends on the viewpoint. I write better in third person, at least I think so. It seems to flow better whenever I do if I'm making sense lol Thanks for reviewing my stuff!

 **Jack Malvine:** Aw shucks, really? Thanks so much! I'm glad you like it so far. Feel free to express how you feel about later chapters if you'd like!

 **James Hasmen/Nick Daniels/Angelina Wonder:** I'm not saying you're spamming my review board, but it is perfectly odd to have you all submit a review within the exact same minute of each other, on the exact same day, chapter by chapter… If you're one person, one review is enough, which is why I deleted the rest. Thank you kindly for reading. I do appreciate it, but resubmitting your reviews repeatedly on my review list doesn't make my anymore inclined to update at a quicker rate. I've also taken the time to check the time frame of how long it takes you to submit a review on other people's work in this section and I must say, they're usually all within the same minute of each other so I'm not basing my assumption on just the reviews of my work, but rather everyone else's as well. Please bear that in mind. One meaningful review is enough for me than multiple riddled with praise and updating. Review count means nothing in terms of updating but I thank you for posting your opinions. -AJ

 **Guest:** Thanks! Hopefully you like what you read!

 **DALDE:** No need to apologize. I'm a native to the language and I still fumble with English. We've got like hundreds of words that are spelled the same but they can mean two different things. ;[ I'm glad you're enjoying the story so far. You're welcome to stick around to the end! I'm happy to have another reader!


	4. In Which Howl Calls Sophie A Terror

**A/N:** I just want to say thank you to everyone who favored, alerted, reviewed, and read this fic so far. It's much appreciated to know that this particular one is being read, and it's also one of my favorites to write—I guess a guilty pleasure, if you will. I hope everyone finds this next chapter somewhat enjoyable, and you're all free to share your thoughts—especially on the way everyone's curses are. I really wanted to make sure that they coincide with Sophie in some way—both positive and negative. I also want Markl (not Michael) and Howl to be a little more close, despite the curse since the circumstances are different. I feel like their relationship in the film could've been shown more since he's only ten, just my opinion. Children need love, too. As for Michael, Martha will be in this fic, too.

Also, I'm not sure when I'll have the time to update again, since I've finished the summer term and the fall term is about to start and I've got other things to update. Sorry. :[

Thank you, Best regards and Much Love,

AJ

 **Chapter 4: In Which Howl Calls Sophie a Terror**

At around three in the afternoon, Sophie was still sleeping, and Calcifer was eyeing her with an unnerving expression as two licks of red flames—which he used for arms—reached for the last nearby log in the pile of ashes resting in his grate. He nibbled on the chopped wood while his large, dark-colored eyes observed how peaceful Sophie looked as she dreamed… until she none too subtly changed into an elderly woman in her sleep—three times in one minute—causing her to groan in pain and touch her chest as she finally remained her youthful self. It was obvious that Howl was thinking about eating her heart, even while he was away.

"…That's _some_ curse she's got there," Calcifer murmured to Markl. He flinched for just a moment, feeling a wave of anxiety attacking the heart he had resting underneath him and thumping at an irregular rhythm. From what he could tell, Howl was highly upset, nervous, and a little guilty… but also full— _quite_ full…

 _He's eaten his fill_ , Calcifer thought. _And he's probably been greedy enough to bring another heart home._ He wouldn't doubt that the shame was from Howl bringing another _trophy_ back to the castle and adding it his collection on the shelf above the workbench… The sudden emotions were making Calcifer's demonic features morph, such as his lips, which turned an eerie shade of purple, and his face colored into a thin shade of blue. He even momentarily sported two tufts of green flaming eyebrows and matching burning hair before his form reverted back into the bright, reddish-orange hue it had been once before…

Markl, however, was used to seeing this, and although he quirked a brow from where he sat on a three-legged stool in front of the hearth, his focus quickly flickered back down at the directions of a spell on parchment paper that Howl had instructed him to study yesterday. "I've tried this one all morning, and still no results, Calcifer," the child whispered with furrowed brows. Some spells were difficult to read—and mastering how to read them was just as much apart of his apprenticeship as performing them.

Between nibbles, Calcifer casually asked, "What did Howl say yesterday?"

Lowering the paper slightly, Markl gazed up at the ceiling, seeming to think the answer resided there. "Sometimes doing a spell correctly as written is the wrong way to do it," he vaguely recited. He sounded unsure of himself.

Well, that hadn't been the _particular_ choice of words the eldest wizard had used. Magic could be quite tricky; they all knew that. "Eh," Calcifer said, shrugging. "Close enough, kid."

"You've been changing colors a lot since Master Howl left," Markl noted. He placed the paper on the floor in his lap, and he rested his arms on the stone platform before him and positioned his head on both limbs. With a huff, he said, "I do hope he's not sulking in the alleyways—you _know_ how he can be."

Calcifer didn't need to be reminded that Howl was the king of drama—and unfortunately, he and the boy were his loyal, curse-ridden subjects. After feeling another twinge of guilt from the rouge wizard, Calcifer lapped up the last remnant of the log he'd been munching, watch as his tongue turned blue while Makrl hoped off his stool. The boy made a dash over to where the stacked wood resided—beside Sophie's new sleeping arrangements—grabbed a few logs, and returned to his seat as he dropped them into the grate. As he returned to his previous position of leaning against the stone, Markl noticed that Sophie hadn't startled when he fumbled a log during his rush, either.

Dark eyes observed with twinkles of intrigue as Calcifer's reddish-orange lips turned purple and the fire demon began nibbling at the tip of the log he now cradled. In some ways, Calcifer could be quite adorable—when he wasn't whining about his predicament—and he was almost like a cat whenever he ate. And if Markl listened closely enough, he could hear distinct 'nom-nom-nom' sounds as the demon chewed… Absolutely cute… However, when Calcifer began changing colors once more—that fierce shade of green, purple, and blue—Markl knew two things. One: Calcifer had magic worth fearing. Two: Howl was up to no good again—and hating every minute of it.

"He's getting worse by the days," Markl stated, turning so that his right cheek rested on his arms instead of his chin. "Isn't he…?" He knew that if Calcifer were any shade of the spectrum except red or orange, Howl was either around a girl—and probably eating her heart—or thinking of eating a heart. The demon knew everything about Howl.

"So are we all," Calcifer reminded. "You've been changing a lot more since that lady arrived. It's usually less frequent than this, kid."

Markl gave an attentive nod. "I think my curse has quieted now that she's asleep, though—no Michael in sight…" The name caused him to sigh and his heart felt a little heavier. "Calcifer?" Pausing from his meal, the demon peered over at him, using his inquisitive stare to probe for what was wrong with the child.

"I can't remember which one I'm supposed to be," Markl admitted. "I can't remember if I was born as Markl or Michael… not anymore…"

"Neither can I," was the quiet retort.

* * *

Evening had rolled around by the time Howl returned to the castle, and neither Calcifer or Markl were surprised to find him covered in dark blue feathers sporting even _more_ blood on his beak, claws, and feathers than before. The scene _did_ startle Markl briefly when he saw the crimson stained white cloth Howl held in his left talons as he entered and trudged over to the shelf of hearts above the workbench. The cloth was wrapped around something nearly oval in shape and large… something that had been previously beating… something that had obviously been stolen.

"M-master Howl," Markl called quietly. He gulped when he saw the creature in search of a jar, and he cautiously scooted off the stool to venture to the broom closet, where several were stored. Upon retrieving one, he slowly walked up the Howl and offered it as he twisted the lid off—raising it high. Markl nearly cowered away as Howl placed the soiled cloth on the workbench and reached for the glass item, but when the child saw the gentle manner in which Howl's claws gripped the sides—while also being mindful not to scratch the tiny human palms that offered—he stood firmly in place, dropping his hands when Howl had a decent grasp of the jar. As Howl began to morph back into his human form, both Markl and Calcifer turned their gazes elsewhere, none too keen on witnessing him add another heart to his collection.

Later, after hearing the lid sealed tight, and the sound of the jar being placed on the shelf, they both forced their eyes in his direction to see that Howl was human once again. He was trudging towards Sophie's sleeping quarters with his head hung low and his bangs shielding his ashamed face from view…

"Geez, you look _awful_ , Howl," Calcifer stated in a curious alarm. He could feel a sudden hunger emitting from Howl's heart as he watched the wizard pace. "Don't eat her…" _She may be my ticket out of here…_

A ghost of smile flashed on Howl's lips as he saw that Sophie was the elderly woman he dropped from the sky just yesterday. "I couldn't even if I tried," came the exhausted reply.

"And boy do you want to," Calcifer noted. "You're making _me_ hungry again, and I just ate!"

Tilting his head, Howl reminded himself that he wished no harm to come of Sophie, and the way her skin became polished once more caused him to reach down and stroke the back of the fingers of his right hand against her cheek… until he noticed that he'd stained her skin red. Retreating as if he'd been burned, he touched his hand against his stomach, stepping back before turning altogether. "Calcifer, run my bath."

Markl waited until Howl had completely ventured upstairs before he took in a deep breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He was still in the same spot in which he'd given Howl the jar and his legs refused to walk any further on the newly stained, crimson floor. "He usually remembers to clean himself up before he leaves…" Turning to Calcifer, he said, "But when he dropped Sophie off, he had dried blood stains on his face."

Calcifer had lost his appetite as soon as Howl had entered the bathroom upstairs, explaining, "I don't think he noticed how he looked today..." He knew by the way Howl's heart was thumping that the wizard had finally taken a look at his disheveled self in the mirror. He relished in the feeling of knowing that Howl thought he looked disgusting. "For once..."

"Of course," Calcifer whispered. "It's Sophie fault… he can't have her, and he knows that, but that's _all_ he's thinking about… You know how he gets when he just _has_ to make a girl fall in love with him and eat her heart out—I bet he won't even eat hers; he'll put it on display as a trophy like some of those other girls over there." It was part of his curse: becoming obsessed with the chase. Everyone liked a good chase, after all. Howl's was just more obsessive than others… and also life-threatening.

Markl hummed in agreement, sighing when he realized that he suddenly felt a little taller than before. It was best to wear looser clothing than the garments he was currently wearing. "Well," said Michael, gesturing towards Sophie with his eyes, who was shifting herself awake. "She's definitely awake."

"And hungry," Sophie said in the groggiest of voices. She winced when she felt a sharp pain in her chest, and her right hand reached up to clutch the fabric in the area. "I feel so strange… so weak." Her heart ached.

"That's what happens when your body keeps switching between young and old," Calcifer warned. "All magic has consequences. You did this to yourself."

Sophie closed her eyes, feeling the strange urge to lie back down, despite her youthful demeanor. Even _breathing_ hurt, but she forced in some light waves of air as best as she could. "Are you…?" She took in a deep breath, waiting for the pain to subside. Once it had, she asked, "Are you saying that my heart weakens whenever this happens?"

"I don't know," Calcifer replied blankly. "But it's not just your appearance that changes; your insides sometimes do that too with curses that make you change. I've seen it happen once or twice, and I wouldn't be surprised if those perfect teeth fall out soon, lady."

Sophie's eyes darted towards Markl—Michael—whichever name he preferred at the moment, and came to the realization that his voice wasn't the one she'd been conversing with. "…W-who was I speaking with, Markl?"

"It's Michael," the boy corrected. He was giving her a somewhat irritable look while he huffed. "Oh, I _do_ wish you'd stop doing whatever it is you're doing. I change more when you're awake." To prove a point, he shrunk a few feet, and his chubby cheeks were sporting a wrinkled nose and his lips giving her the most unwavering of pouts. He looked cute enough to hug in Sophie's eyes. "Are you a witch, Sophie?" His eyes were rounded with anxiety.

"You really think I'd let a witch in here?" Calcifer asked, rolling his eyes. It wouldn't suit him to have a witch roaming about, although he probably wouldn't tell Howl out of spite if he met one that had the power to help them.

"I-I'm no witch!" Sophie exclaimed, standing. Her eyes flickered up, hearing what sounded like running water. "Where's Howl? What's going on?"

"What isn't?!" Calcifer whined, flailing his little hands about. He ignored the frightened way Sophie shrieked and nearly fell back on her bed as she finally noticed the fire demon. "'Calcifer, run my bath' he says! 'Sophie's here to help' he says!" The demon made a 'bleh' sound and he pointed at Michael—er, Markl... "Mark my words, everything's only going to get worse now that Howl's got his meal living with us." _Unless Sophie could actually break our curses…_ _  
_

"You… you _talk_ ," Sophie whispered in disbelief with wide eyes. _Perhaps I'm still dreaming…_

Calcifer sulked, resting his hands on the wood he occupied in the grate. "Yeah, and according to Howl, I also eat enough for two—but my appetite depends on his mostly." He wanted to mention that the wizard often told him he complained far too often, but kept it to himself in favor of… well, not proving the man's point.

Sophie missed the random hint Calcifer had just given her in favor of examining the way he would sometimes change colors. "I… I suppose you're cursed, too?" It seemed obvious enough, although Sophie didn't know any other talking fires that she could ask for comparison…

Calcifer pressed his lips together while reaching for the last log Markl had left him earlier. "You sleep a lot… I bet your heart hurts from all that changing, and sometimes your old lady aches and pains mix in with your youth. That's why you want to sleep. Who did that to you?"

"I…" Sophie's lips jammed shut and her hands darted towards them, failing to pry them open. After removing the confession from her tongue, her mouth shot open and she gasped for air. "W-what…?" She was breathing heavily. Taking a curious step closer to him, Sophie nodded, curling her hands timidly as she brought them towards her chest. "What you said before… Do you know more about my curse?" She was only a few feet away from him now. "Could you help me—and Howl, too?"

Calcifer rolled his eyes, giving her a pointed stare. "Look lady, I can't help you until you help me, and in order to help me, you have to break my curse."

 _More people asking me to help_ them _first_ , she thought in vexation. "And how do I go about doing that?"

Calcifer took note of the feisty tone she was now using, and he was none too shy about giving her the same persnickety attitude right back, voicing, "For starters, _you_ can help Howl, since I can't."

Sophie's left brow rose. "How?"

He sighed. "I can't tell you."

"Why not?"

"That's cheating."

Sophie merely blinked, folding her arms. "…This isn't a game, you know?" Although she appreciated a good riddle every once in a blue moon… Her eyes watched his carefully. "Might I ask your name?"

Tiny arms spread wide and Calcifer lifted his body upward, widening his eyes. "I am Calcifer, the great and powerful fire demon!" He waggled his tongue at her when she giggled at his introduction.

"You're not all that frightening for a demon," she mentioned once her laugh subsided.

Markl seemed to disagree by the way he went over to stacked wood and tossed a few fresh logs into the grate. He then paced over to Sophie and peered up at her, curiousness glimmering in his eyes. "How are you going to help us break our curses if you don't even know what they are?"

"Agreed," Calcifer chimed in.

Sophie resisted the urge to frown by taking in a calming breath. "I…" She hugged herself, slowly shaking her head. "I don't know…" As she turned from the fireplace and lowered her head, she gasped at the blood she saw covering the floor. "Goodness!"

"Howl's back," Calcifer explained. He'd spoken this as if the blood was nothing new.

Sophie kept her focus on the floor, feeling her face twist between fear and discomfort. "I could clean this," she volunteered. Her eyes flickered towards Markl's. "Do you have a mop, and a pail?"

Markl was rushing back towards the closet before Sophie could ask anything else of him. After retrieving the items, he hurried over to her—while taking heed to not step onto any of Howl's bloody footprints. "Here, Sophie." He was just happy that he didn't have to clean the stains himself, for once… Cleaning everything else in the castle, though, that was _not_ on his 'to-do' list, nor Howl's for that matter.

Sophie balanced the pail in her left hand and the mop in her right, giving a bow of her head. "I suppose I'll need some hot wa—" Her growling stomach had other ideas. "Or maybe something to eat first. I'm awfully hungry."

Markl made a humming sound as he turned to the items on the table. "We've got some cheese and some bread." He began grabbing them while Sophie placed her mop and pail near the fireplace, and she lifted her dress so that she could see where she was stepping as she approached the table and avoided the grim reminders on the floor.

"Are those eggs?" She was reaching for a nearby pan before Markl could answer. "And you have some—!"

"I'm not cooking any of that bacon, Sophie!"

 _What a whiny little thing,_ Sophie thought. She noticed that her cough sounded gruff, and when she peered down at her hands, she saw several liver spots, moles, dryness, and worst of all… wrinkles. Her nose had grown so long she could see the tip perfectly well as she gazed down at it, along with a wart. "Oh no," she murmured, sounding none too pleased about her current state.

"Howl's thinking about eating your heart," Calcifer stated. As proof, Calcifer glowed a pale blue. "Even while pampering in his comfort room…" _Even after eating before he came here…_ It was quite sad indeed. "Does your heart hurt?"

"It does," Sophie said, plopping down in the nearest chair. "And I'm so drained."

"Are you going to be okay, Sophie?" Markl asked in a worried tone, touching her shoulder.

Sophie reached up—seeing that her hand was involuntarily shaking as she did this—and she patted Markl's anxious grip. "I'll be fine Michael—Markl," she corrected before the boy could. "I just need a minute, or two."

"Or three," Calcifer added for good measure.

When Sophie winced and gripped the fabric nearest her chest, Markl suggested, "Or four…"

All too soon for either male's liking, Sophie stood. "Well," she said in a strained tone. She paused briefly when her neck snapped, groaning as she rubbed the spot. "Time to move this tired old body and get some food in my system." She hadn't eaten since yesterday—some hours before arriving at the shop in which Lettie worked so it was safe to assume that the girl was starving. As if agreeing with the notion, her stomach rumbled, to which she offhandedly patted it like a mother would an awaiting child.

"What?!" The disbelief radiated off both the demon and the lad.

"Sophie!" Markl called, ignoring the way he suddenly grew a few feet into Michael. "Don't strain yourself!"

"He's right," Calcifer said. "You don't wanna hurt yourself." And Howl would be upset if his meal were damaged before he could do it himself…

Sophie ignored them in favor of grabbing the skillet. "Oh, hush up the both of you!" came the breathy hiss. "I may look ancient, but I'm quite capable of utilizing the stove, thank you very much." Grandma Sophie was quite saucy when provoked.

Calcifer made a 'tsk' noise as he crossed his arms, huffing as he watched Sophie reach for an egg. As she cracked it, he said, "Listen, lady. I'm not making any breakfast for you." He was frowning as she ignored him in favor of pouring the yoke into the pan. "I mean it."

"What good is a fire if you can't even make something this simple?" Sophie challenged, none too shy about speaking with him now. She'd forgotten about the blood on the floor in favor of grabbing the frying pan and slowly making her way over to the fireplace. "Come now, Calcifer. It won't take long."

Offended, the fire demon pressed his lips in a tight line to avoid saying something foul. However, as Sophie approached, he said, "Look, lady. I told you I'm not making any—hey!" He was scooting around, desperately trying to avoid the frying pan about to be positioned on top of him. "Hey, lady!" His eyes were wide in his sudden panic. " _Lady_!" His tiny hands pushed up at the steel item as best as he could in favor of not being flattened, but the attempt was in vain. The fire demon was no match for Grandma Sophie.

She had won within that same second, and easily crushed the weight of the frying pan on top of him, all while gesturing with her free hand for Markl. "Pass me the bacon," she commanded.

Markl, who'd observed the scene with a bit of admiration for the elderly woman, found his mouth agape. "Calcifer's doing what she says…"

"Markl?" Sophie called.

Tiny feet began to move, causing Calcifer's eyes to peep out from under the cooking utensil. "Don't help her!" But Markl was already handing Sophie the strips.

"Thank you, Markl," Sophie said. When she noticed the stool, her feet practically begged her for some rest, and she seated herself at a good angle in front of Calcifer to continue her cooking.

The fire demon grumbled something to her as he sulked, but Sophie could only catch the last sentence: May all your bacon burn. It made her smile, nonetheless. "It won't take long," she assured.

"You're mean," Calcifer groused.

Markl's eyes darted towards the staircase as soon as he sprouted in growth. "Master Howl," Michael said in greeting.

Glass eyes were far too focused on Sophie as he sauntered downstairs and approached the fireplace with a gleam of mirth in his small smile. As he stood to Sophie's left and tilted his head, he said, "Calcifer, you're making breakfast?" It projected like a question, although it was a statement filled with wonder and barely there hilarity.

"She bullied me!"

 _He_ does _whine an awful lot_ , Sophie thought, rolling her eyes.

The tantalizing chuckle from Howl caused her eyes to dart towards his, and her old heart sped up a few beats once she saw his head turning to seek out her own gaze—to which she quickly peered down at their sizzling breakfast. But Howl was difficult to ignore. For starters, his grandeur of a scent emitted euphoric waves every time she got a whiff of it. He smelled of dulcet hyacinths, too. It wasn't overbearing, and it certainly wasn't soft—just the right blend to please anyone's nostrils who stood within a two foot radius. Sophie even had to fight the urge to draw herself nearer to him due to that splendor of a smell. It was almost enchanting in a way—if not peculiar that Howl would choose something that wasn't loud and showy…

 _Well_ , the old woman grumbled. _His gaudy outfits certainly make up for it._ He was sporting a baby blue cloak with a clean, white robe to go with his dark slacks and brown shoes.

"Not many people can do that, you know?" the wizard asked, taking the handle from Sophie in a fluid movement. "I had a hunch that you might be a witch—or maybe an enchantress since your face is always in my thoughts as of late." There was a tease in his voice, one that made Sophie's heart flutter again—although when her body morphed into her youthful self, she was certain that she felt an agonizing sting—enough to make Howl drop the frying pan handle and try to catch her before she could topple over.

"Sophie!" Howl called, grabbing her by the shoulders.

Calcifer sighed as he turned his casual reddish-orange hue, pushing the pan towards the ashes so that the breakfast wouldn't be completely lost, although he did manage to furtively snatch up one of the three strips of bacon. "You've gotta stop thinking about eating her. Every time you do, her insides start to change, and she can't handle it—no one in her position could."

Howl was watching Sophie's face twist as she closed her eyes and he took in how tense she felt in his grip… "I can't guarantee that."

"But you're trying," Calcifer mentioned. "I can feel what you feel, remember? You don't want to hurt Sophie."

"Do you think she could die if she keeps changing as a defense mechanism?" Michael asked, sounding weary as Sophie fluttered her eyes open and touched her chest.

"I think it's likely," Calcifer answered. "If it hurts that much…"

Sophie took in a deep breath, wincing as she performed the action. "It feels as if I'm dying every time it happens _now_ … almost as if I've condemned myself."

Howl disagreed with a firm shake of his head, his hands giving her arms the gentlest of squeezes. "Sophie." His eyebrows were furrowing, but he paid no mind to the crinkles forming on his forehead in favor of the grave look he challenged against her aggrieved one. "You may have cursed yourself, but only in defense against _me_ …" His pitch dropped as he murmured out, "I _am_ a murderer, after all…"

Sophie's lips parted at the confession, disappointed that Howl would think so lowly of himself. "Howl, you can't help it—"

"For all of this to be happening to you," he whispered. "It's _my_ doing, not yours." _My fault..._

"Howl—"

"I condemned you the moment I laid eyes on you, Sophie—and worst of all, I felt a little proud of seeing you as a target…" The admission caused the room to silence, and Howl refused to give into the hunger he was feeling for Sophie's heart—even if he was in range of taking it—of _feasting_ on it. He knew she'd change if he had, and he didn't want that.

"…How long has she been changing?" Calcifer asked, breaking the silence.

"Since I met her yesterday," Howl murmured. He brushed a stray strand of her hair back in place. "Can you stand on your own?"

Sophie almost nodded, but part of her wanted to say "no" in a bid to be under the comforting touch of Howl's hands—which were rubbing soothing circles with their thumbs. Howl mistook the action for hesitancy, and stubbornness. "If you can't, I wouldn't put it against you, Sophie. No need to put on bravado for me." He sounded genuinely concerned now. "I can hold you for as long as you need, or maybe you'd like to rest on your bed?"

 _Howl_ , Sophie thought meaningfully. She slowly nodded, stepping away from him. "I'll be fine, so long as you control your hunger."

Missing the action, Howl's fingers twitched before he dropped them at his sides and briskly turned, pulling his cloak closer to him so that the sleeve area he wasn't wearing around his arms wouldn't fall off his shoulders. "My feet itch," he announced. "I'm going for a walk on the hills."

Sophie reached for him, only to pause mid-action. "Howl," she said, curling the fingers slightly on her extended palm. "You're supposed to help me solve—"

"I'll just be an hour," he assured her. "No more, no less." As he made it to the door, he whispered, "You should eat."

Sophie gave no further dispute as he left; although Calcifer detected the hint of relief in her eyes at Howl's declaration of returning. Little did Sophie know that Howl was unconsciously willing himself to leave, just to see Sophie's eyes light up upon seeing him return. It confused the fire demon because he was sure the curse wasn't in effect. If it had been, he'd be changing colors. If it had been, he could feel it.

 _Howl_ , the fire demon thought. _I can tell these random feelings for Sophie might be real… even if you can't just yet._ He knew the wizard had an unintentional fascination with Sophie Hatter, regardless of the curse; it was Howl who was unaware. _I hope you know it might hurt even more if you two fall in love..._

* * *

Howl was indeed walking the hills, and with quickened paces at that. He seemed to be searching for something in his mind that clearly wasn't there: logic. The infatuation he was feeling with Sophie Hatter—a girl he'd met yesterday, mind you—was eating at his own heart. "I'll just keep my distance," he assured himself, giving a curt nod. "And she can break our curses and we can both be rid of each other…" It was simple enough.

Sighing he paused, lowering his head to rub his temples as he brooded. The wind made his hair blow about, but he didn't mind. He _did_ notice that his bangs had grown, though, and he knew that he was in need of a suitable trim. With that in mind, he did an about face, intent on going to the place he loved the most in the castle, the bathroom. However, once he returned, he knew that having Sophie around would be a problem, in more ways than one.

 _My God, this is dreadful!_

It was a horrific sight to behold, really—mayhem even.

Sophie Hatter was cleaning.

 _Oh dear..._ Howl shook his head as the door closed, and no one noticed his entry amidst the chaos that was _Sophie_. Inclining his head, the wizard thought, _I should've seen this situation arising… how unpleasant._ His mood had become inure, and he sensed a squabble in the near future, although he didn't like quarreling with people.

He saw that Sophie was sweeping up a storm in a mask made of white cloth, little Markl was standing on the workbench—looking none too pleased, and albeit afraid, as he eyed Sophie's wide, unrelenting movements of the broom—and poor Calcifer was dangling from a pail by a piece of wood that was breaking in the middle. He'd probably been placed there because Sophie had been using her broom to clear off the ashes from the fireplace. Dust had taken over the atmosphere and even Howl couldn't deny that he felt sorry for Calcifer as he pleaded, "Sophie, help me! I'm going out!"

It was like watching a kitten hanging from a windowsill.

Sophie was ignoring him, though. She was far too busy with cleaning. "Oh hush up," she said. "It won't take long."

"Sophie!" Calcifer whined. His little bottom was moving in a desperate swinging motion so that he could get some leverage and try to climb atop the thin wood, only for it to snap. He plummeted into the bucket just as Howl calmly paced over to him. He saw that the little demon had turned into a blue ball around his heart, and he gently scooped him up, blowing lightly before placing Calcifer back into the fireplace, and giving him fresh wood.

"I'd appreciate it," Howl said to Sophie, who had finally noticed him. "If you didn't—"

"Try and kill me!" Calcifer whined out. "If I die Howl dies, too!"

Sophie missed the hint, pointing at the floor. "But it's a sty in here," she retorted.

"Master Howl!" Markl shouted, to which Howl went over to him and lifted him off the stool when the boy reached for him. As he placed the child on the floor, he even took the time to brush some dust off his hair while Markl's dark eyes gave the indication of a cry for help. His gentle touches were filled with a deep affection while he inspected Markl's upset demeanor. "She says she can't help us until the place is clean!" He looked genuinely unsettled by those words.

Offended, Howl snapped his head at Sophie. "...You're quite the terror, aren't you?" He had a bit of a bite in his tone.

It was Sophie's turn to appear offended, and she cut her eyes at him. "This castle is a mess." For emphasis, she pointed her broom at a spider web, were a large black widow had made a home. "Just look at all the spiders!" Indeed they were abundant.

Howl's eyes darted around the room, noticing that one of the webs in the corner was gone, and the spider along with it. That was all it took for him to loose his temper. _Sophie Hatter_ had the audacity to bother his precious spiders. "Confound it, woman!" He nearly stomped his foot, but fought against it in favor of not alarming Markl. "Leave the spiders alone! They've done nothing to you!" _I should've suspected she'd come after something of mine, since Markl and Calcifer have already felt her wrath._

You should've never let her in here! Calcifer thought grudgingly, crossing his arms.

"They don't need to be here, and this place is filthy, Howl!"

"This is _my_ castle!" he reminded in a high pitch, none too concerned with the disagreeable look she was giving him. He gave it right back, like a mirror. "I've a right to a pigsty if I please, don't you think?!" His nostrils were flared and he was getting a headache. Sophie was the first woman to make him lose his temper to such a degree.

Sophie's brows rose, challenging his reflective stare. "I can't live like this!" Calcifer thought it odd that the two were arguing like a commonplace, rather unhappy, married couple. Still, he enjoyed the show, both for Sophie managing to get Howl upset, and for Howl making her stop antagonizing him via cleaning.

Howl groaned, spreading his arms as he lowered his voice and said, "You're lucky to be alive at all, all things considering…"

Sophie was seething, but she nodded, nonetheless. "But it's unbearable like this," she said, bringing her voice down. "And you…"

"And I what?" he questioned. When she remained quiet, he urged, "Tell me, Sophie." His tone was softer now. _I do wish I hadn't done all that yelling. It's certainly not good for my voice. I don't want it to resemble a strained old gent this soon._

"You had blood prints on the floor earlier…"

He flinched at the same time Calcifer had, which didn't go unnoticed by Sophie. "I see…"

Hurrying up the stairs, Howl shook his head, only to stomp back down midway and point. "You may clean, but _don't_ bother the spiders." His chin was up, as if he were giving a royal order, although Sophie was under the impression that he was being a royal pain in the arse.

"Why not?"

"Because they get rid of flies, naturally," Howl responded with a poised shrug of his right shoulder.

"What about upstairs?" Sophie queried. "May I clean up there?" She opted not to give him a false curtsy, as it might've encouraged his dramatic behavior. _Your majesty?_ She was sure that if this floor had this much filth, surely every other room in the castle was just as untidy.

Howl's right brow arched, observing the way Sophie's did the same with a twinge of amusement. All too quickly, it vanished as he politely said, "…Don't touch my bedroom—and should you find yourself cleaning my comfort room, don't touch _any_ of my potions." He had his hair to think about. Heaven forbid Sophie switch anything. The bathroom contained all of his prepping materials—necessities that made him look less like the mud-color haired man he was born as and more of the man he wished to be.

"Fine," Sophie said simply.

Howl crossed his arms. "Fine…"

"You're upset," she noted.

 _Was it my frown, or my tone, that gave me away, Sophie?_ He gave her a dismissive wave of his left hand before returning to his original stance. "I don't like quarreling with people—especially not in my own home."

"Neither do I."

Howl offered her a rueful smile. "I beg to differ." He started to turn, but stopped himself, lifting his index finger as he gazed at her. "Do you really want to wear _that_ dress while you're here? I'd be happy to make you something else. That's rather ghastly."

"Oh, do shut up," Sophie said, feeling her temper rise. Howl had been on about her clothing since she'd met him.

He had gotten under her skin, enjoying the lovely shade of red her face flamed. "I'm only offering. I am a wizard, after all. I can make you something that isn't even on the market yet." He sounded delighted by the very mention.

"So I noticed," she mused, eyeing his gaudy cloak.

For a moment, they simply stared at each other, seeming to be debating on whether or not they should find something else to argue about. During their disagreement, Howl had forgotten that Sophie's heart was his soon to be meal, and Sophie had all but pushed the thought of Howl being a cursed murderer to the back of her mind.

Although they had a quarrel, it seemed… normal? Comfortable?

Safe.

It was Howl who noticed the feelings—and the situation—first. It made his eyes round briefly before they relaxed and he paced the rest of the way upstairs.

"I've never seen him argue so much," Markl said. "But you _did_ bother his spiders."

Sophie hummed in agreement, feeling emotionally drained from all the trouble she'd caused—if not a little satisfied that she'd managed to make Howl looked baffled as he had before he retreated. _Not many people can do_ that, she thought in triumph, remembering what he'd said before about how she'd bullied Calcifer.

The little fire demon soon added in his two cents. "And you haven't changed, which means he wasn't thinking about eating you, Sophie." He sounded genuinely surprised, and was that a hint of pride lacing his tone that Sophie managed to detect?

Releasing a calm breath of air, Sophie bowed her head and placed the broom against the wall. "I suppose I won't bother anyone by cleaning upstairs today." She couldn't help but roll her eyes at the way a newly transformed Michael and Calcifer breathed in relief. At least she'd had breakfast—well, a late lunch—and knowing all her meals afterward were going to be on clean dishes from now on put her at ease.

It wasn't until a few hours later that Howl returned downstairs to find Sophie and Michael seated at the workbench, taking notes about everyone's curses. Sophie was using Howl's everlasting quill pen to scribble brief lines, while Michael chatted about what he knew of Howl's curse.

"Once he meets a pretty girl," the boy said. "He _has_ to pursue her."

Sophie jotted the words down—verbatim. "And he can't let up?"

"Not ever," Michael said, shaking his head. "They all have to be young and beautiful though, like you, Sophie—or else the curse won't urge him to chase the woman."

Howl kept quiet at the top of the stairs, watching in amusement as Sophie flushed a brilliant red. _You truly aren't aware of how lovely you are_ , he mused. _Even if you dress awful._ He couldn't help but grimace at her attire, knowing full well that if he had his say, he'd fix that maddening dress.

"But," Sophie whispered, placing the pen on the table. She shyly began twirling the braid that hung over her shoulder. "I'm not very pretty…" She claimed his often—too much for Howl's liking. It was appalling, unattractive—while also still being _somewhat_ attractive—when a woman didn't know how appealing she was.

"You're beautiful," three voices assured her.

All three occupants on the first floor turned upon hearing Howl's voice among them. "Your curse, Sophie," Howl started as he slowly stepped down each step. "Make sure you take consideration of it against mine."

"That's right!" Michael encouraged. His breath hitched as he dwarfed back into Markl, huffing in annoyance that he was now shorter than he preferred. "Your curse counters Howl's curse," he continued, although he was pouting slightly. Howl could tell that the child had taken a liking to Sophie already and he found it endearing to see Markl's chair so close to hers from where they sat.

It had taken him a few weeks into his apprenticeship before the child dared to scoot so close to Howl. The memory caused the wizard to crack a fond, reminiscing smile as he watched them and quietly descended the stairs.

"And when Howl's curse makes him think of eating your heart," Markl said. "Your curse can activate, even in your sleep."

Before Sophie could reach for the pen, Howl came behind her seated form and leaned over her so that his arms were on either side of hers, and his chest brushing against the back of her head. Keeping his left palm pressed against the table, he took the pen in his right, and he scribbled down some sentences about Michael and Markl.

"He changes more when I'm around?" Sophie asked, peering up at the same time Howl glanced down. His hair was tickling her face, draping around it like a curtain, even if he had trimmed it into a straight line.

"Yes," was the reply from the wizard.

"I see," she replied, sounding guilt-ridden. Even feeling remorseful, she couldn't deny that Howl was making her think things she was sure she'd never felt before—quite like how she pictured most women feeling whenever they met him. It was as if his soft eyes—although glass-like—could urge her to come forward… could bend her will. She momentarily fought against leaning back to bury herself into his chest, and she blinked away the fantasy of him embracing her in his arms. Blushing, she lowered her head and whispered, "Oh dear…"

Thinking that she was feeling guilty for his sake, Markl took her hand, squeezing it.

"It's okay, Sophie," he assured. "It doesn't hurt my heart like it does yours to change."

"How long have you been changing?" she asked him. She felt Howl retreat from her, and she instantly missed the contact—even if Howl's intentions had been innocent.

"I can't remember," Markl whispered. "But Master Howl does…"

"You were Michael first," the wizard clarified, pacing over to fireplace. He noticed the stacked wood—which was within Calcifer's reach and he quirked an amused brow.

"Sophie did this for me!" the fire demon exclaimed, easily reaching to grab one. "Isn't it great?!" He began nibbling on the edge of the log while keeping his gaze focused on the wizard.

They shared a brief moment of understanding, and Howl knew for certain that Calcifer had felt all the flutters Howl had when he was standing against Sophie's seated form earlier. There was an all too telling look in Calcifer's eyes, a false innocence of a warning in his large irises that simply said: I hope you know what you're getting into. The way Howl tore his gaze away in a bored fashion proved that the demon was right.

Howl had a crush on Sophie.

"Someone cursed you," Howl said to Markl. "It was while I was away and you ventured into town to see… _someone_." He missed the relieved look Markl had given him to keep his special someone a secret to Sophie. "Your curse prevents you from saying who it was that cursed you, but I presume it was the Witch of the Waste." Crossing his arms, he murmured, "It seems everything ties into that dreadful woman."

"Why does she hate you so much?" Sophie suddenly asked. "Did you eat the heart of anyone she knew?"

Markl blurted out, "I wish," at the same time that Calcifer scoffed and said, "If only..."

Howl took a seat in the nearest chair beside the fireplace and he sat back, lifting his left leg so that he could prop it on his right. As he rubbed the back of his neck, he closed his eyes. "I used to think she was quite beautiful—the second most beautiful woman I'd ever had the privilege of courting." He grimaced as he opened his eyes and locked them with Sophie's. "And then I realized she wasn't, so I fled. She was as horrendous as her heart, Sophie—an unseemly sight to behold."

Sophie couldn't help the slightly bemused look she gave him, but she relaxed her expression once she asked, "Who is she?"

"The witch?" he inquired.

"No, the most beautiful woman in the world?"

Howl smiled fondly at the thought, tearing his gaze away from Sophie's curious eyes. "Believe it or not, I don't know her face myself, or even remember her voice, to be honest… It's always blank in my dreams, but I know in this dream, her hair is short and—"

"Don't forget that she knows our names!" Calcifer piped up, having had the same dream as often as Howl. "Even though we've only heard her say it once."

Howl agreed with a bow of his head. "I fear she may actually be a dream now… but the way she reaches for me reminds me that she _must_ have some purpose than just being a dream." He touched his chin as he pondered this. "Sometimes, I think that she's using our first meeting in the dream as a bid to not make it the last, to save me somehow—no, to save the three of us… and I adore her for it."

Sophie found herself smiling, although she did feel a tad jealous. The story itself had her feeling sentimental, though. "That's _so_ romantic, Howl." _I never heard of such a thing..._

"But she's only a dream," Howl insisted. _And she can't help us break our curses…_

"No," Sophie whispered. Finding some courage, she stood, spreading her arms. "Howl, they must mean something—and perhaps this woman is very much alive and still searching for you!" She was getting excited about the idea, and Howl thought it sweet of her to wish him a happy ending, even if he was a murderer…

The dreamy gaze he found himself giving her surprised even him, and he whispered, "Sophie?"

Realizing how loud she was being, she blushed and touched her lips with the tips of her fingers. "I'm sorry, Howl. I—"

"Even though you're quite the terror, I appreciate your company." _In spite of everything that's happened to you, you're still keeping positive about the situation—if not commandeering it._

Markl, who'd just turned back into Michael, was smiling as he watched the intimate exchange, and Calcifer couldn't help but pause mid-bite after witnessing the chemistry radiating from them. He could feel Howl's heart fluttering again.

"When none of us think about our curses, no one changes," the fire demon noted.

"You're right!" Michael quickly jotted that down. However, Howl and Sophie's remained focused on each others.

 _Maybe it's best that the woman in my dreams stays a dream…_ He knew he was playing with fire when it came to Sophie Hatter, but part of him—a small part that he rarely knew existed most days—was willing to take that risk…

Finally, Sophie murmured, "And I appreciate yours…" She was sure he wouldn't be saying that once she scoured his comfort room tomorrow. No, that room was in for the cleaning of its life.

…

 **Replies to Guest Reviews:**

 **Beda:** I think I was on a roll: two updates in one month! That's a rarity for me lol Idk, sometimes it feels like the longer the chapter the bigger chance I have of rambling and making something too verbose but I only apply that in my case. I guess 7,000 isn't too bad.

 **Jack Malvine:** Side effects? I feel like for every action, there's a reaction and nothing comes without consequence so there may be more side effects. ;)

YoungMe: Thank you!

 **Otaku. review:** I will remember your tip! Grandma Sophie is pretty sassy in the novels. :D I love them both equally, too—just for different reasons lol

 **James Birdsong:** Yass! Thanks so much!

 **Guest:** Thank you! Hopefully my little twists I'm trying to incorporate will work.


End file.
